Of Boys and Spells
by bennybear
Summary: A canon compliant next generation story – Albus and Scorpius get into trouble at the end of their first year at Hogwarts. Sequel to "Of Hats and Girls".
1. The Stolen Essay

Author's notes:

#1 This story is a sequel to "Of Hats and Girls" and "Ravenclaw. Ravenclaw? Ravenclaw!". Both are based on chapter "Nineteen Years Later" of DH. However, I ignored most pieces of additional information (e.g. the Weasley family tree or the retirement of Minerva McGonagall) that Mrs Rowling gave in interviews. What is not in the books is not canon.

#2 Hogwarts castle has always been subject to change. It is famous for its staircases with vanishing steps, solid walls pretending to be doors and doors pretending to be solid walls, its moving rooms, hidden chambers, and corridors that lead the unwary around in circles. It is believed that those strange features are brought about by the intrinsic magic of the building itself.

Some changes, however, have been caused by people. In the Battle of Hogwarts, facilities that had benefited students for a millennium were destroyed. The Hufflepuff quarters were damaged beyond repair. During the following summer, new ones were established in one of the hitherto unused towers.

#3 Special thanks go to my beta-readers duj and Gogol.

-

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

- - - - - -

Of Boys and Spells

chapter 1: The Stolen Essay

-

"Your brother takes after his grandfather, and I'm sure I can't decide which one," Professor Flitwick said. Albus didn't dare to look into the man's face. True, James got into trouble every so often. But this time, he wasn't to blame. "There is no need for you, Mr Potter, to follow in his footsteps, let alone to assist him with his _practical jokes_."

Albus didn't know how to reply. They were waist-deep in Dragon droppings.

"It was my idea," Scorpius said in a low voice.

"I beg your pardon?" Professor Flitwick said sharply.

"It was my plan," Scorpius repeated more loudly. "At least, mainly my plan."

"And why would you devise plans for entering girls' dormitories, may I ask?"

"Nancy Donovan stole Rose's Transfiguration essay!" Albus answered in Scorpius's place. "We wanted to get it back."

Professor Flitwick looked genuinely surprised. "Is that true, Mr Potter?"

"Yes, it is. She must have taken it during the Herbology lesson. But Rose didn't notice that it was missing until she wanted to make a few revisions. By then, it was about eight thirty, and the essay is due tomorrow morning."

"Theft is a serious matter," Professor Flitwick said sternly. "Didn't the idea occur to you to notify a teacher of your suspicion?"

"That's what Rose wanted to do at first," Scorpius said. "But then she figured – and Al and I had to agree with her – Donovan would rather destroy the essay than allow herself to be caught with it."

"If she intended to destroy it, she would have had plenty of time to do so," Professor Flitwick observed.

"Well, you see, we think what she really wanted to do was to copy it," Albus said. "I'm sure she spent the whole afternoon on it. Her essay might now be the longest. And that would be really unfair."

"I'm sure," Professor Flitwick said, leaning back, "that Professor McGonagall will notice if students copy their homework."

"She might, eventually. She is very competent," Scorpius said. "But by then, Rose would have suffered all the humiliation."

"What are you suggesting, Mr Malfoy?" The little man sat up straight again. "I am _convinced_ Professor McGonagall would have taken a reasonable approach if Miss Weasley had explained matters to her."

"That's not the point," Albus mumbled.

"And what would _be_ the point, Mr Potter?" Professor Flitwick asked, stifling a sigh.

"There... there is a bet on who will write the longest essay for Transfiguration-

"The most comprehensive one," Scorpius amended. "Length alone isn't enough. There has to be substance, too. Professor McGonagall wouldn't accept an 'essay' that is only babble, spread over five feet of parchment."

"Rose had a fair chance of winning," Albus went on. "She wrote ten feet, actually. Professor McGonagall had said three, which was a piece of cake. That's why the girls made the bet. Or rather, the challenge."

"When Al and I were done with our three feet we helped Rose research more facts. We used the books in the common room and went also to the library several times."

"Right," Albus said. "That conceited Flint girl needed to be shown her place."

"Miss Bathsheba Flint?" Professor Flitwick asked. "Of Slytherin?"

"Yes, her," Scorpius confirmed. "She started the whole thing. Donovan joined in later."

"She bragged even more than Flint. And when Rose took what she believed was her homework out of her bag tonight, she found Donovan's notes for Muggle Studies."

"Rose was frantic," Scorpius said slowly. "Rewriting just the required homework wouldn't have been a big deal. But Al and I had already told everybody about the ten feet masterpiece. Handing in anything less tomorrow morning would have been a complete disaster... You see, it was our fault altogether. So, we had to do something about it."

Albus nodded to Scorpius's words. Ten feet in ten hours – even Rose couldn't do that, especially because all the facts that went beyond their actual lessons were pretty complicated. Nevertheless, she had started to scribble feverishly, tears in her eyes. Scorpius had been no more able to stand the sight of Rose crying than he had.

"And so you came up with your plan, Mr Malfoy?" Professor Flitwick asked.

"It seemed easy," Scorpius said, going slightly pink. "Fly up to the window, climb in, grab the essay, and get out."

"I see. What went wrong?"

"Somebody came in. My memory ceases there," Scorpius said. "When I woke up, I was lying on the lawn."

"She Stunned him," Albus said. "An older student; I don't know her name. She ran out to fetch help, and I climbed in and dragged Scorpius to the window as fast as I could. When James tried to hoist him onto his broom he accidentally let go of mine, and it zipped away. He had Scorpius, though. He flew him down, and I waited for him to fetch me. But Professor Jones was faster. She came in along with at least ten other Hufflepuffs. They all looked rather confused because they had thought to find Scorpius and had me instead."

"Well, I know the rest," Professor Flitwick said. "Just one more question, Mr Potter-"

There was a knock at the door, and a split second later, Edward Blancmange, Runes teacher and House Head of Gryffindor, stormed in with Professor Jones trailing along in his wake.

Professor Flitwick motioned for the boys to stay seated and offered chairs to his colleagues. Whereas Jones accepted gracefully, Blancmange remained standing.

"So, Filius, what did the two culprits confess?" he demanded without preliminaries.

"They claim that Miss Donovan stole Rose Weasley's Transfiguration essay and that they attempted to retrieve it."

"A likely story," Professor Blancmange scoffed.

Professor Jones, however, looked worried. "Do we have any conclusive evidence? Or is it only the word of your students against that of mine?"

"Nonsense," Blancmange declared, his eyes fixedly on Albus, "You should be truly ashamed to sully your father's great name like this. Your brother owned up, and here is what really happened: _You_ beseeched him to provide an opportunity for seeing girls in a state of, ahem, un-clothedness."

Albus sucked in a breath and forgot to exhale. He felt his cheeks going hot. How could James tell stories like that!

"That's not true," Scorpius said bluntly.

"Oh, it isn't?" Blancmange retorted coldly. "I even understand _you_ fainted from the sight of an, ahem, undressed girl."

"I did not!" Scorpius shot to his feet. "I have two sisters, sir. I have seen them without clothes on more than once. I assure you. And peeping would absolutely be below my standard!"

"I have no intention whatsoever of discussing _your family's_ standards," Blancmange replied, his tone icy.

Albus reached for his friend's hand and pulled him back onto the chair. There was no need to annoy their Head of House any further. Professor Flitwick generally felt more comfortable if everyone around him sat so that the difference in heights was less obvious. He especially preferred his students to be seated at all times. It was a tricky thing to tell somebody off whose head was three feet above yours.

Scorpius gave him a look in which outrage mingled with gratefulness.

Blancmange abruptly changed the topic. "What is that about an essay, anyway?" he asked. "Where is it?"

The utter silence that ensued seemed to last for hours.

"Well, that is a reasonable question," Professor Jones broke it at length. "If there ever was a piece of homework involved, where is it now?"

"When I came round we were surrounded by teachers," Scorpius said meekly. "So, I didn't dare asking James where it had gone..."

Albus's heart skipped a beat. The essay was _gone_? Where? When? How? That couldn't, no, that _mustn't_ be true!

Blancmange, bristling, bore down on Scorpius, "Mr Malfoy, are you now accusing a Gryffindor student of theft?"

Scorpius shook his head, avoiding eye contact.

"Doesn't James have it?" Albus whispered, hoping against hope.

"Obviously not," Blancmange's tone was only marginally less hostile than it had been with Scorpius.

"I'm afraid there was no essay," Professor Jones seconded. "James Potter and Mr Malfoy were thoroughly frisked because the girl who surprised the latter thought she saw him stuffing something into his robes."

Albus felt like crying. The whole effort, all the trouble they had got themselves into, had been in vain. If James didn't have the essay... Well, his brother would tell tall stories. He would try to pull one over on him and Scorpius, but he would _not_ harm Rose. James quite adored her, although he wouldn't admit it.

"Asking Miss Weasley might be the best course of action," Professor Flitwick said. "However, that will have to wait till tomorrow. I won't have a first-year dragged from her bed at this time of the night unless there is an emergency."

"That is fine with me," Professor Jones said smoothly before Blancmange could open his mouth. "Have you already decided on a punishment?"

"Detention, of course," Professor Flitwick answered. "And I will have to deduct ten points for each boy, even if it hurts so close to the end of term."

"I think that will be acceptable," she said.

"Regrettably, Hufflepuff might lose more points should Miss Donovan indeed be found guilty of theft," Professor Flitwick remarked conversationally. Turning to the Head of Gryffindor, he asked, "What about you, Edward?"

Blancmange looked distinctly miffed. "Potter will have to serve detention next Saturday. With Inutilia Selwyn."

"And aren't you going to take a few points off?" Professor Flitwick asked mildly.

Albus carefully kept his head down. His brother had lost Gryffindor more points with his antics during the past year than he had gained with three won Quidditch matches.

"Very well, ten," Blancmange conceded grudgingly as his colleagues continued to stare at him.

"Make that twenty in case James Potter's version turns out to be the correct one," Professor Jones said. She got up, bid everyone good night, and left.

Blancmange made as if to follow her, but turned back, his hand on the door-handle.

"Albus Potter," he said in his deep, rumbling voice, "which version _is_ true?"

"Ours, sir," Albus said. "This was about getting my cousin's homework back, not about seeing naked girls."

"We needed brooms. That's why-" Scorpius started, yet Blancmange cut across him.

"I didn't ask _you_. Mr Potter, continue."

"We needed brooms," Albus repeated. "That's why we asked James for help. When he heard what we were going to do he insisted on coming along."

"I can imagine," the old wizard muttered on his way out. "And, obviously, he can't stand the fact that, for once, he hasn't been the mastermind."

Professor Flitwick waited until the door was firmly closed.

"Well, Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy," he then asked. "Who else was in on the adventure?"

Albus and Scorpius exchanged a surreptitious glance. Knowing exactly that they were about to break approximately one hundred school rules, they had been careful not to tell anyone. They hadn't even told Rose.

"Nobody besides Al's brother," Scorpius said.

"All right, I put my question differently," Professor Flitwick said. "Why isn't Miss Weasley in the common room anymore, re-writing her essay?"

The boys exchanged another glance.

"I do not know," Albus said, trying not to let a sudden hope colour his voice.

Flitwick nodded slowly, the shadow of a smile playing around his lips.

Albus wasn't sure what to make of this. "May we go now?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes, you may. And should you happen to discover the person who took the essay from unconscious Mr Malfoy and delivered it to Miss Weasley, tell him or her to see me tomorrow morning. Of course, he or she will have to serve detention along with you and your brother, but I like students who have a backbone."

-

Groaning, Scorpius slumped against the wall outside Flitwick's office. "Do you think he'll write to our parents?" he asked.

Albus shrugged. Of all the questions milling around in his head this was the one that bothered him least. James had committed more and worse mischief, and he'd always been forgiven.

"Dad would be so upset..." Scorpius trailed off, looking wretched.

"The most important question is: Does have Rose her essay back?" Albus said more impatiently than he had intended.

"She has," a girl said. She wore a long, bluish nightdress. Long, wavy hair cascaded down to her waist. She was Rose's tutor, Miranda Corner. "Persephone Ackerley and the Austrian boy brought it quite some time ago."

Scorpius sighed with relief. The gloomy expression stayed on his face, however.

"Where is Rose?" Albus asked.

"In her dorm; it's after curfew," Miranda said. "She was worried about you, though. That's why I'm here. So, what happened?"

"We got caught. We have detention with Selwyn on Saturday," Albus said. "You can tell Rose we're are sorry about that."

Miranda's eyes bore into his. "What about house points?"

"He took off twenty," Scorpius muttered.

"But Hufflepuff will lose more because Donovan is a thief," Albus said defiantly.

"What will leave Gryffindor in the lead," Miranda said, pulling a face. "Splendid, _just splendid_."

"My brother lost ten points, too," Albus said, now feeling thoroughly embarrassed. Why was it that people set such great store by this old-fashioned house competition? "We had to help Rose!"

"Well, I hope she will earn a few extra points with that essay so the score will even out in the end," Miranda said sternly. "Now, be off to bed lest you get into trouble again."

-

Joseph, Aidan and Cedric sat on their beds, eagerly awaiting a report of tonight's events. Albus and Scorpius took turns delivering the details.

"Professor Flitwick wants dat... that I own up a confession?" Joseph asked in the end.

"He said so, yes." Albus nodded. "It's sort of a logical conclusion that there was somebody else involved. He will want to know, who."

"Okay, I'll go," Joseph decided. "But we do not tell Sepho, yes?"

"Rather not," Scorpius agreed. "It doesn't take more than one person to carry ten feet of parchment, so one person taking the blame will be enough. Besides, you'll have to serve detention along with us, Joseph."

Joseph shrugged.

"And points?" Aidan asked. "Will he dock more points?"

"Because if he does," his twin brother joined in, "Persephone had really better keep her mouth shut."

"He didn't say anything about docking more points," Albus said with a sigh. "But Sepho should keep quiet, just to be on the safe side."

"He won't take points away," Joseph said confidently. "He wants dat... that our house wins."

The twins nodded their agreement; Scorpius looked pensive.

"Joseph, how come you and Sepho knew what we were up to?" Albus asked.

"You know her. She is always curious. She listened in to you. She has Extension Ears."

"Extendable Ears," Albus corrected automatically. Of course. Uncle George loved to boast about Extendable Ears still being top sellers after twenty years.

"Yes, dat... that is de name," Joseph said brightly. "She listened in to you when you made your plan. Den, she told me, and we followed you."

"Thanks for helping us, Joseph," Scorpius said.

"Yes, thanks," said Albus, following suit. He felt tired; it was about one in the morning. "Let's hit the sack."

"Oh, by the way, did you take pictures, Albus?" Aidan suddenly asked.

"Yeah, because we hear we really missed a show," Cedric added, smirking.

"What're you talking about?" Albus asked, completely at sea.

Cedric's grin grew wider. "We're talking about our Scorpius, unconscious on a broom."

"Yeah, fancy that," Aidan laughed. "He's a fairly rotten flyer when he's conscious-"

"-and now", Cedric went on, "imagine him dangling from James Potter's broom like a wet towel."

"Just shut it," Scorpius muttered, and left for the bathroom.

Joseph glowered at the twins until they stopped sniggering.

"Oh honestly," Aidan exclaimed, "we were only joking!"

"Yeah," Cedric fell in with his brother, "trying to lighten the atmosphere."

"Anyway, why's Scorpius pissed up like that?" Aidan asked.

"Let me see," Albus said, holding up a hand to count on his fingers. "We have detention, on Saturday, with Selwyn. My brother goes and spreads off-colour stories about us. We lost our house twenty points and won't be very popular in the common room for a while. And Professor Flitwick might write to our parents. Is that enough?"

"Well, you see, that is the trouble with you two," Cedric answered. "You take everything seriously but the one thing that is serious."

"Which would be Quidditch," Aidan added gravely.

"Oh, just shut it," Albus growled. However, he couldn't help laughing a bit, too.

-

Half an hour later, finally in their beds, Scorpius said softly, "Al?"

"Yeah?"

"There's something else that worries me. Why is Donovan acting like this? Bragging? Cheating? Stealing? We know her from Herbology, and she's always been a nice girl."

Scorpius seemed to have a point, but Albus felt too exhausted to give the matter any thought.


	2. Detention

Of Boys and Spells

Chapter 2: Detention

-

Saturday morning was exceptionally bright and promising, a morning where you knew of better things to do than walking down to the dank dungeons.

"Couldn't he send us to the greenhouses?" Scorpius asked.

"The library wouldn't be bad, either," Rose mused. "Just imagine dusting books in the Restricted Section..."

"Well, it's supposed to be punishment," Albus muttered darkly, "not enjoyment."

"Yes," Joseph joined in. "For breaking rules and being catched."

"Being _caught_," Persephone corrected.

"But not you, Sepho," Scorpius said. "The teachers don't know you were out of bounds."

"But what am I to do all morning if you four are here?" the girl said, gesturing to the entrance of the Potions classroom. "I'd rather come with you. Cleaning cauldrons can't be that bad."

"Rose doesn't have detention," Albus said. "So, you two have a whole glorious morning to yourself. You can do all your arcane girl stuff without having guys peering over your shoulder."

"Arcane girl stuff?" Persephone giggled. "What would that be?"

"No idea," Albus grinned. "It's _girl_ stuff, right?"

When the laughter had died down, Rose said, "Sepho, would you like to come with me to the hospital wing to check what is up with Nancy?"

Scorpius frowned. "She's ill?"

"Seems more likely the public disgrace knocked her off her feet," Albus mused aloud. Hufflepuff had lost fifty points after Professor McGonagall had confirmed that the girl had copied two thirds of Rose's essay.

"That's what I'm trying to find out," Rose said. "Professor Jones had her taken to the hospital wing last night. Neville, I mean Professor Longbottom, said Nancy behaved very oddly."

"You talked with a teacher about Nancy Donovan?" Scorpius asked in astonishment.

"No. He was talking to Hagrid, and I happened to be in the vicinity..." She trailed off, as James appeared in the hallway.

For somebody having detention, James was in a remarkably good mood. "Well, little bro," he said gleefully, "how does it feel to have detention for the first time?"

"I had detention before," Albus said coolly.

"Indeed? For what offence?"

"We practised a defence spell we had found in a book," Rose answered in Albus's place. "Unfortunately, we did it in the common room, and Trayi Wamankar got accidentally hit with a Jelly Legs Jinx that we had failed to block."

"Impressive! I can see a magnificent career as criminals for you," James said generously. "What was your detention, anyway?"

"We had to help Professor Flitwick tidying up the books in our common room," Persephone told him rather proudly. "We had to put fresh labels on the spines where they had fallen off or where they had become dirty and unreadable."

"That must have been an extremely difficult task." James was fighting hard to keep his face straight.

"No, it was easy," Scorpius said. "The labelling system is very similar to the one that my Dad uses."

"You father labels his books?" James asked, and Albus could tell that, this time, his brother's disbelief wasn't faked.

"Oh honestly, James," Rose said, shaking her head, "stop acting the fool. Such systems are common in all public libraries. Scorpius's Dad works-"

Professor Selwyn, House Head of Slytherin, cut Rose's speech short. "Gerstlmeier, Joseph? Malfoy, Scorpius? Potter, Albus? Potter, James?" She read the names from a list without looking up. "In here, gentlemen."

She ushered the boys into the classroom; Rose and Persephone stayed behind.

-

They didn't have to polish cauldrons.

James, being older and more experienced with potion making, as Professor Selwyn put it, had to eviscerate ugly creatures called horned toads.

Albus, Scorpius, and Joseph's task was to dust the shelves in the storage room. Those shelves were laden with bottles, boxes, and jars, with horns, scales, and talons of a variety of magical beasts, with dubious gadgets, crumpled parchments, battered books, and bundles of dried nettles. There was no discernible logic to it. Everything seemed to have been stuffed there at random. And everything was dirty. Judging from the thick layer of dust that covered most of the containers, the place hadn't been tidied up in years.

They had to take every item down, wipe it clean, and put it back. And they had to do it manually. Wand-work was not allowed. Some dirt was smelly and stomach-turning; some dirt clung to the vessels as if it were a living, stubborn creature.

Professor Selwyn poked her head in once in a while. She never stayed longer than a couple of minutes because the classroom was crowded with fifth year Slytherins taking extra training for their oncoming O.W.L. exam. Every time the teacher opened the door, the clanking of cauldrons and animated debates about recipes or ingredients could be heard. Foul odours wafted in, too.

-

The morning wore on slowly, and Albus thoughts tended to wander off to things he could do instead of scrubbing grimy pestles and mortars. He could, for instance, play chess, sit by the lake, listen to Scorpius playing the flute, read, visit Hagrid...

"Drink, drank, drunk. I drink pumpkin juice every day. I drank pumpkin juice yesterday. I have not drunk pumpkin juice since yesterday," Joseph said. They were rehearsing irregular verbs. "Spin, span, spun. A wheel sp-"

"Stop," Scorpius interrupted. "It's spin, _spun_, spun."

"Why?"

Scorpius shrugged. "There's no specific reason. That's why these verbs are called irregular."

"Spin, _spun_, spun," Joseph sighed. "I'm hopeless, aren't I?"

"No, you are not," Albus said. "Your English has become much better."

"Except for de" – Joseph paused to concentrate – "_the._"

"Perfect," Scorpius commended. "You are getting there."

Joseph beamed. He took the large bottle Scorpius had just cleaned and restored it to its place on the topmost shelf. He was the tallest of the three boys.

"Gerstlmeier?" Professor Selwyn called from the door.

"Yes, Professor Selwyn," Joseph answered, turning to face her.

"You'll assist my O.W.L. students." She walked up to Joseph and grabbed the bottle he had just put away. "Amortentia," she read out from the hand-written sign. "That's for curing boils. You have to put it in the medicine section, not here." She carried the bottle over to the shelf next to the door. "I like to have the medicinal potions close at hand in case the nurse needs something. That's called foresight. Do you understand, Gerstlmeier?"

Joseph nodded politely.

"Good. Now come," the teacher said, pointing imperiously to the door.

Joseph complied. When Albus and Scorpius started for the door as well, Professor Selwyn stopped them with an impatient gesture.

"You keep working," she ordered. "And mind the medicinal potions."

Watching Joseph and the professor exit, Albus said under his breath, "Amortentia is no medicinal potion. My Uncle sells it in his shop. The dram is several Galleons because the ingredients are outrageously expensive."

"Then we're lucky we didn't drop that bottle," Scorpius said, almost awed. "It must be worth a fortune."

"No doubt. And it is a love potion."

"Wow... How does it work?"

"It makes you obsessed with someone, Uncle George says. But it doesn't cause real love. He says, manufacturing or imitating _real_ love was absolutely impossible."

"So it should be called Deception Potion for it deceives both the sides. Somebody thinks they are in love, and the other party believes he or she is loved," Scorpius said.

"Perhaps the name itself is meant to be a deception."

"Obviously." Scorpius reached for another large bottle and gently blew the dust off its label. He watched the tiny dust particles dance away and said, "I wonder what potions we'll learn to brew."

"So do I." In their lessons, they mostly had to copy down parts of their textbooks. Or Professor Selwyn made them clean their – unused – cauldrons. However, Albus didn't think that potions had necessarily to be a boring, pointless subject. He vividly remembered the three exciting afternoons they had spent with the DADA assistant from Durmstrang preparing and brewing a Fire Protection Potion. Afterwards, they had been allowed to test its effect. Unlike Floo Powder, which worked only with ordinary fire, the potion shielded the drinker from most types of magical fire. The only exception was Fiendfyre, and Oleg Sagovorov had sternly warned them against ever experimenting with it. Snapping out of his reverie, Albus said, "I wish Oleg could come back next year."

"Oleg?" Scorpius said, looking up from his work. "But he can't. The DADA position is jinxed."

"As Potions teacher."

"Yeah, that would be cool. We've learned as good as nothing from Professor Selwyn. For instance, here – Armadillo Bile." Scorpius held up a dark brown bottle. "What do you think it is used for?"

"Bile could be to do with digesting fat food," Albus speculated. "Or else, the stuff makes the drinker totally angry."

"Okay. Let's do a guessing game," Scorpius suggested. "Your turn."

Albus peered at the faded letters on the container he was cleaning. "Bulbadox Powder."

"Used to repel doxies," Scorpius said after a moment's consideration. He seized an ornate jar. "_Confusing & Befuddlement Draught_ it says here."

"Probably Professor Selwyn's regular nightcap."

"Good one," Scorpius grinned. "Go on."

"Runespoor eggs."

"Main ingredient for magical omelettes. Next is _Mrs. Scower's Magical Mess Remover_."

"That's too easy. It's a cleaning substance that takes care of everything from spilled Cough Potion to Dungbomb splodges. Mum always keeps a bottle in stock. Ask me something else."

Scorpius selected another bottle. "Veritaserum," he said and paled when, suddenly, realisation struck. He sat the small, translucent bottle back on the shelf with utmost care as if he was afraid the glass would break from mere touch. "That is the drug they gave my Dad, right?"

Albus nodded. He put his arm round Scorpius's shoulders. "You okay, mate?"

Scorpius didn't answer. His eyes seemed to be focussed on something that wasn't there in the storage room, but a long way off.

"You haven't decided yet, have you?" Albus asked softly.

"No, I haven't. I doubt he even knows that book exists."

Scorpius was putting off telling his father about Vallon's _Report on Unveiled Death Eater Crimes_ the same way Albus was putting off telling his parents about Scorpius. Neither of them could be sure how the adults would react.

Albus gave a little squeeze and then released Scorpius.

He had often thought about the fate of Scorpius's father after Rose, Scorpius, and he had secretly read the book. According to its author, an Auror from Switzerland who had assisted with the interrogations and trials after the war, Mr Malfoy was both offender and victim. How were people to deal with such a dilemma? Albus had no idea.

"I think he's scared," Scorpius murmured. "He avoids anything that might remind him."

Albus nodded; Scorpius had said so before.

"How would anyone like to remember being tortured by their own Aunt?" Scorpius went on, the words barely audible. "I have an Aunt, too. An aunt by marriage. I can tell she loves me and my sisters even though we are not – strictly speaking – her kin. I can't imagine her hurting us. It is completely beyond me how anyone can be as horrible as Bellatrix Lestrange."

"She was most likely not quite right in the head."

"Maybe." Scorpius heaved a sigh. "It's all so complicated, such a tangle."

Albus felt sympathy for his friend, but couldn't think of anything helpful to say.

"Vallon only states facts in her book," Scorpius said. "Who committed which crime. Where did they do it, and when. But there was never a real explanation _why_ people like my Dad did what they did. Why didn't the Aurors ask them about their motives? Wouldn't that have been important to prevent such terrible things from happening again? And anyway, why weren't _all_ Death Eaters given that potion and then properly questioned?"

"Well, Vallon says in the chapter about your family she tricked your Dad into drinking it. Older Death Eaters were probably better prepared for such tricks and didn't fall for them."

"I'd like to know how Veritaserum works. In all detail."

"I'm sure there are books about it. They're bound to be in the Restricted Section but" – Albus smiled confidently – "Rose can magic them out."

Scorpius nodded.

Right then, Joseph burst in.

"We can leave!" he announced. "She said so!"

Albus and Scorpius exchanged stunned looks. Being dismissed from their detention this early seemed too good to be true. It was more than an hour until lunch.

While Scorpius had Joseph repeat Professor Selwyn's exact words to make sure there was no misunderstanding, Albus's eyes were drawn to the small bottle filled with Truth Serum. Perhaps they could test the concoction in a similar procedure like the one they had used for testing the Fire Protection Potion_._ Without thinking, just acting on impulse, he snatched the little flask from the shelf and slipped it into his pocket. Neither Scorpius nor Joseph had noticed.

Scorpius had come to a decision. "Let's go," he said, shrugging. "It's Selwyn. You never know with her."

They ventured out. Inutilia Selwyn hardly looked up from her newspaper when they walked past her. The Slytherin fifth years were busy packing up. James had already left.

-

No sooner were they outside the classroom than Joseph started talking about looking for the girls. Albus didn't really listen because, all of a sudden, Scorpius was sprinting up the stairs. "Hey!" he called after him.

"I'll meet you by the lake," Scorpius called back and disappeared round the corner.

"Where's he running?" Joseph wondered.

"Fetching his flute," Albus said. It was more than a guess. Scorpius used music like other people used Cheering Charms.

He and Joseph decided that it was unlikely for Rose and Persephone to be still snooping around in the infirmary, so they went upstairs, to the Entrance Hall, and leisurely out into the grounds. At an hour to noon, it was already hot outside. Albus took his coat off. Joseph followed suit, all the while explaining about the potion he had been allowed to stir.

"Joseph, just a question," Albus interrupted him at one point. "Is Amortentia for curing boils or is it a medicine against tooth-ache?"

"I know you, Al," Joseph said, smiling. "It's bod... _both_ wrong."

"Exactly. It's a love potion."

"No kidding?"

"No kidding. My Uncle sells it in his shop."

"Professor Selwyn isn't much of an expert at potions, is she?"

"No, I'm afraid she isn't. James says, he was able to brew twenty different potions at the end of his first year. Okay, let's cut that down to ten on account of his usual bragging. It's still impressive."

"Look at the bright side: Professor Selwyn never gives us homework," Joseph said. "Did your brodder... brother have a different teacher?"

"Yes, Horace Slughorn. He retired after James's first year."

"My tutor says Professor McGonagall could find a good Potions teacher easily. The trouble is dat... that nobody wants to be House Head of Slydderin."

"I've heard that, too."

They'd reached the lake and picked a comfy spot to sit down. Scorpius arrived – out of breath thanks to his running – only a couple of minutes later.

"Have you seen Rose?" he panted. "Or Sepho?"

"No," Joseph said. "Have you?"

"No."

"I think they might have gone to Hagrid," Albus said, "to find out a bit more about the conversation Rose mentioned. He's rather prone to blabbing."

Scorpius, still taking deep breaths, gave him a slow, searching look.

Albus shook his head in response to the unspoken question. He knew Scorpius wasn't welcome at Hagrid's cabin. Hagrid had never explicitly said so, but Albus was able to take a hint. Scorpius's name was never mentioned; there was never a single question or remark regarding him. It was as if Hagrid pretended the boy didn't exist. "I don't think Sepho will need me to pump somebody for information," he said, trying to give his words a light tone.

"For sure," said Joseph with affection. "She's nosy enough for two."

"There's that, too," Scorpius muttered, toying absently with his flute.

Albus slid sideways on his buttocks until he sat right next to Scorpius.

"Hey," he said and nudged him playfully.

Scorpius, without looking up, lashed out and brushed against Albus's chest, but Albus caught his wrist and tugged. Scorpius slumped; Albus wrapped both arms around him. Scorpius struggled in vain to free himself with one hand, holding his flute out of harm's way with the other. They grappled uselessly for a few moments until Joseph seized the flute. With two hands free, Scorpius pushed Albus to the ground and tried to pin him. Albus threw him off, though, and they rolled over twice. Since they matched each other in strength, neither gained an advantage. Then, when Albus was on top for a mere second, Scorpius used his leg as a lever and set them rolling again. With one huge effort, he finally forced them apart. Albus let go and came to rest on his back, laughing. Scorpius, lying in the grass two feet away, also laughed.

Still chuckling, they manoeuvred themselves back into a sitting position.

"What was _dat_ all about?" Joseph asked, mildly confused.

"Just for fun," Albus said nonchalantly.

"Right. Indulging in immature behaviour," Scorpius seconded, grinning sheepishly. "Er... thanks for rescuing my flute."

"You're welcome," Joseph said, handing the instrument back with a theatrical gesture.

"Any demands?" Scorpius asked, raising the flute to his lips.

"_Old Long Sign_?" Joseph suggested.

Scorpius started playing. After _Auld Lang Syne_ he launched into another traditional tune he knew by heart. The music gradually attracted a bigger audience. Ireen and Trayi were the first who came and sat down to listen. Pia and Glynnis joined them, as did a couple of second year Hufflepuffs and Tim Warbeck from Gryffindor.

Scorpius was in the middle of a somewhat exotic song called _Nothing Else Matters_ when they caught sight of Yaxley. He approached rather quickly, and it was already too late to saunter off in a casual fashion. The only option was running, but nobody seemed inclined to give the spiteful youth such satisfaction. After all, they were in a crowd, and he was striding directly towards the lake, looking neither left nor right. Unfortunately, he did spot the group of younger students and stopped in his tracks.

"Ah, what do we have here?" he said, his voice dripping with false friendliness. "Two petite fruitcakes."

The way he towered over Albus and Scorpius made it unmistakably clear whom he was addressing. However, Albus couldn't think of any reply. He had absolutely no idea why Yaxley was going on about cake.

Yaxley, strangely enough, took a step backwards. "Ah, Malfoy, tell me, are you already allowed to sleep in Potter's bed?" he sneered.

Scorpius jumped to his feet. Albus leapt up as well. He still felt dwarfed by the tall, burly Slytherin.

"No. All Ravenclaws are allowed their own bed," Scorpius said, his voice strained with the effort to sound calm. "Do Slytherins have to share their beds with another student?"

"You!" Yaxley snarled dangerously, his face reddening. "You little imp!"

Yaxley's hand shot into his coat and out again in one, smooth movement. The hex hit Albus before he even thought of reaching for his own wand. He staggered backwards but managed to stand upright.

Yaxley roared with laughter.

"Al, your hair..." Scorpius whispered.

Albus looked up and gasped. Scorpius's hair was an intense shade of violet. And judging from Scorpius's shocked expression, his own hair had to have the same, offensive colour.

"Like it?" Yaxley jeered, aiming his wand at them. "Ah, I can make you look even more alike-"

"Protego!" Joseph bellowed.

The shield extended between Yaxley on one side and Albus, Scorpius, and the girls on the other. A heartbeat later, Tim Warbeck fired a jet of yellow sparks in Yaxley's direction. The Slytherin wheeled round, surprised by the fact that a first-year student dared to attack him. Glaring menacingly at Tim, he raised his wand but Joseph brought off another Shield Charm. Although it was weaker than the first one, it served to protect Tim from Yaxley's Stunner.

By the time Albus finally had his wand ready, three of the girls had moved around the fighting boys. They pointed their wands at Yaxley's back, chorusing a Jelly Legs Jinx.

Yaxley fell.

It didn't take him long to recover, though. He was back on his feet in no time at all. But by then, Etienne Delaceur was there, too, and with him his regular throng of N.E.W.T. students. Without wasting time on questions, the DADA assistant disarmed Yaxley, bound his hands with magical ropes, and escorted him back to the castle. The seventh years, save Victoire, trailed along.

Victoire, her face as stern as it was beautiful, had Albus explain about the incident. After two or three futile attempts to turn his hair back to normal, she sent him and Scorpius to Madam Smethwyk.

-

The infirmary was teeming with teachers. Even Professor McGonagall was there.

"Just our luck," Scorpius whispered.

"Let's sit down somewhere and wait," Albus whispered back.

The teachers were clustered around a bed, apparently debating a serious problem. Who the centre of their attention was, Albus couldn't see. As a matter of fact, it wasn't Nancy Donovan. She lay motionless on her bed, staring fixedly at the ceiling. She seemed completely oblivious to the boys' presence or the commotion less than a couple of yards away.

All at once, Rose emerged from the crowd. It took Albus no more than the fraction of a second to realise that something was wrong.

"Rose," Scorpius said softly, reaching for her hand and pulling her gently closer. "What's happened?"

"Sepho can't move her legs anymore," she answered anxiously. "Madam Smethwyk can't undo the curse."

"Why not?" Albus asked, taking her free hand into his.

"She's tried everything. I can't remember every Counterspell she used... Then, she sent for Professor Flitwick and later, when nothing would work, for Professor McGonagall. Professor Jones was here because of Nancy and she alerted some more teachers. They have been talking about Combined Curses and other advanced magic for the past hour. By now, they've come to think it's a Lingering Hex. Such Hexes can't be undone at all," she said, fighting sobs. "You have to wait for them to wear off. That could take weeks!"

Albus was at a loss for words. Poor Sepho. There was only one week until the end of the term. Would she have to stay here while everyone else went home?

"How... who did that to her?" Scorpius asked.

"Yaxley," Rose sniffed.

"Yaxley?! He's just hexed _us_!" Albus exclaimed.

Rose looked at him. The altered colour of his hair obviously registered only now with her. Silently, she took in Scorpius's appearance as well.

"Bloody hell," she breathed at long last. "I hope that's not a Lingering Hex, too."

-

It was a Lingering Hex.

At any rate, that was what the young nurse, looking completely crestfallen, told them.

- - - - -


	3. Daring Plans

Author's note: The finer details concerning Veritaserum and its effects are taken from Mrs J.K. Rowling's website. Thanks go to duj for pointing me there.

-

Of Boys and Spells

Chapter 3: Daring Plans

-

The Ravenclaws of his year were gathered in Albus's dormitory.

Joseph sat on his bed, flanked by Glynnis and Trayi. He held a small bouquet of various flowers in his hands.

"Professor Longbottom helped me to pick d-them," he said, indicating the flowers. "He was very sympadeti... sympade-the..."

"Sympathetic," Scorpius provided.

"Yes, dat's de word," Joseph said. His usual wide smile was missing.

"I think you should go first, Joseph," Ireen said. "You and Rose. You're her closest friends, and Madam Smethwyk won't let in more than two or three visitors at a time anyway."

"Right," Cedric said. "And those flowers won't survive more than another quarter of an hour if you keep fiddling with them like this."

Joseph mumbled something indistinct – probably in his native language – and put the flowers behind him on the bed.

"I agree with Ireen," Glynnis said. "We'll go in twos and threes. And I volunteer to go in about an hour or so. This way I'll have enough time to ask my sister to help me charm the Get Well Card so the little figures will move and all." She held up a colourful painting that was nearly one square foot in size.

Most of them already had plans for the afternoon – there was a meeting of the Gobstones Club and Madam Hooch had scheduled a broom race, so it took them a while to negotiate a visiting order that allowed everyone to pursue their various activities. Then, Rose and Joseph left for the hospital wing and the twins, along with their fellow Quidditch enthusiasts, for the Quidditch pitch. One by one, the others filed out, too, until only Pia remained with Albus and Scorpius.

"I'd like to say something consoling but I don't really know, what," she said, glancing awkwardly at Albus's hair. "Persephone gets all the attention. True, she's worse off than you, but you were hexed as well."

"It's the thought that counts," Albus muttered dryly.

Pia chanced another look at the unruly, violet hair. "You could dye it," she suggested.

"We'd rather not," Scorpius said. "Madam Smethwyk warned us against tampering with it lest we make it worse."

"She said you had to know the _precise wording_ of the employed curse in order to speed up the fading process," Albus added.

"Well, maybe. But... no offence, Al, but..." – the girl grimaced – "that colour kind of clashes with your eyes."

Albus shrugged. He'd never spent much time in front of mirrors. Why start now? He turned away from Pia to study Scorpius's appearance. Scorpius looked strange with violet hair, but not unsightly. "I could shave it off," he said at length, turning back to the girl. "And you know what? My Dad could regrow his hair overnight when he was a boy. Perhaps he'll show me that trick."

Pia nodded, a small smile of relief on her lips, and left.

Scorpius flopped down on his bed. He kicked off his boots and stretched out comfortably. "Can you please write me once your Dad has taught you his special trick?" he asked. "The actual spell plus all necessary instructions for regrowing hair?"

"There is no spell. My Dad did raw magic. Such things won't work if you try to do them on purpose."

"Liar."

"I wanted to calm her down," Albus said apologetically.

Scorpius let out a sigh. "I don't know what will upset Dad more – looking at this violet eye-sore or seeing me walk around like a skinhead."

"What's a skinhead?" Albus asked absently. He'd just remembered the Truth Serum in his pocket. His fingers closed around the small flask.

"They're Muggle hooligans who like to beat each other up after football games. They also like to shave their hair off for some reason."

Albus didn't listen. Knowing how to use Veritaserum would be great. He pictured a properly drugged Yaxley who spoke nothing but the truth...

"Al?"

Madam Smethwyk could interrogate the Slytherin boy and learn the exact wording of the curse he put on Sepho. Having such information, the nurse could speed up the waning process, and, with some luck, Sepho would be able to walk again by the end of next week.

"Albus?"

What amount of potion was necessary to make a bulky yobbo like Yaxley talk? Would the contents of the tiny bottle be enough?

Thoughtfully, he caressed the glass with his forefinger. They could go to the library. They could start by searching the free sections until Rose joined them. Aunt Hermione had taught her a really useful spell-

"Al!"

"What? – Oh, let's go, then."

"Where to? We're supposed to visit Sepho after dinner."

"No, let's go to the library and search for a book about Veritaserum."

"That can wait, Al. The way I look right now I won't confront my Dad with-"

"It's not about your Dad. We'll make Yaxley drink the Serum so he'll own up and tell Madam Smethwyk what curse he used on Sepho."

"Al, we don't have any Veritaserum."

"Yes, we do." Albus held the little bottle out to Scorpius.

"You nicked it?!" Scorpius sat up straight on his bed. "You are mad! You are _downright mad_. That's theft. What, if somebody finds out? We were only just in trouble!"

"I bet Professor Selwyn doesn't even know it was ever there," Albus said, managing to sound calmer than he felt. Scorpius was right about pilfering; he had to admit that much.

"Well, maybe," Scorpius conceded. "But the moment you use it people will notice, won't they? So, you can't."

Feeling genuinely embarrassed, Albus slipped the potion back into his pocket. Of course, the nurse would ask questions if they showed up with a whole bottle of Truth Serum.

"We can ask him ourselves and tell Madam Smethwyk afterwards what we found out. She doesn't have to know _how_ we found out," he said.

Scorpius rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Al, come off it! We know nothing about that potion. What, if we get the dosage wrong? There could be dangerous side effects or something."

"That's why I want to read about it before we do anything," Al said in a small voice. The possibility of side effects hadn't occurred to him.

"Then go and read," Scorpius said wearily. "I won't come. I won't assist you with getting yourself expelled."

To emphasise his refusal, Scorpius beckoned to the king of his chessmen. The pieces immediately climbed down from their favourite resting-place, an illustrated hardback about astronomy, and marched over to the board.

Albus watched them taking up their positions while, in his chest, conflicting emotions battled for dominance. He felt angry and ashamed at the same time. He was worried about Sepho and he was mad at that bully Yaxley. He resented Scorpius's attempt to distract him with chess and he was glad that Scorpius was resolved to prevent him from committing some folly.

"Look," he said pleadingly. He wanted everything to be all right and he wanted his best friend to help him put things all right. "Sepho is our friend. How can you sit here, cool and unperturbed, and play chess as if nothing bad had happened to her?"

"That's not fair, Al!" Scorpius said sharply. "I'm as much worried about Sepho as you are."

"What if she can't go home next week?"

"Professor Flitwick can ask her parents to come and fetch her. They're both wizarding people. They can come to Hogwarts."

There was a knock at the door.

"Come," Albus said much louder than necessary. He very nearly blushed when the door opened and he saw the visitor. Being impolite to your tutor was simply not on.

Mike Wilson wore a grin, though. "There's a healer here from St. Mungo's. She wants to have a look at your violet mane. Or rather," he corrected himself, pointing a finger to Scorpius and grinning even wider, "at your violet _manes_. Get going, you two."

"To the hospital wing?"

"No, she has set up office in the Quidditch shack," Mike replied, pulling a face. "Of course, to the hospital wing! Where do you think a healer would be?"

"Yeah, sure," Albus muttered. "Thanks for the message."

"It's nothing. Now get a move on."

Albus left with Scorpius in tow. He didn't mind the interruption – quite the reverse, he was glad for the respite. Arguing with Scorpius was a different matter than quarrelling with James. And besides, an experienced healer from St. Mungo's would sort out this mess in a jiffy, wouldn't she?

-

The healer was an elderly, greying lady with a stern face. She spent ten minutes doing diagnostic spells. She even plucked a few hairs from Albus's head.

"Well gentlemen, the good news is that the damage isn't permanent," she said eventually. "How long it will take for the curse to fade Merlin alone knows. Two or three months wouldn't surprise me."

Months!

Albus groaned inwardly. He would have to flaunt that annoying colour for the whole summer! What amount of "jokes" from James, giggles and squeals from Lily, teasing remarks from Uncle Ron or Uncle George would he have to endure? Not to mention Grandma Weasley's disapproving glares...

Scorpius, looking as unhappy as Albus felt, cleared his throat. "May I ask a question, ma'am?"

"Sure, dear. Go ahead."

"What about Persephone Ackerley? Will she be unable to walk for the whole holidays?"

"A Leg-Locker Curse will in all probability wane faster than a simple Hair Colouring Jinx since it takes up considerably more magical energy. To hazard a guess, I'd say a couple of weeks, maybe three."

Scorpius buried his face in his hands. "Why does anyone do such things?" he sighed.

"That's hard to tell. Have you or the girl done anything to offend Mr Yaxley?"

"He takes offence in my mere existence," Scorpius said. "It has to do with my father and grandfather and a war that ended twenty years ago."

A grim smile stole over the healer's face. "In a sense, the war can be considered the political equivalent of a Lingering Curse. Even after two decades, former Death Eaters like the Yaxleys – the entire family was somehow involved with the Dark Side – haven't come to terms with reality. They're obviously intent on passing the enmity on to the next generation."

Scorpius visibly twitched, but the healer plunged on, "Lingering Curses are banned. They border on the Dark Arts, especially when combined with a potentially life-threatening spell. Using them – and on rather helpless children! – is a telltale sign indeed: The sons are as ruthless as the parents once were."

"Not all of them," Albus said firmly.

"Oh sure, some have mended their ways." There was an unconcealed note of sarcasm in the healer's voice. "A reformed Death Eater is as possible a thing as an herbivorous dr-" She abruptly stopped talking because Madam Smethwyk and Professor Jones approached. The nurse looked worried, the teacher devastated.

Albus strained his ears to hear what the adults were whispering between themselves. He couldn't make much sense of the conversation until he suddenly caught the word _Veritaserum_. Heat rose to his cheeks; his heart was hammering. His hand, on its own accord, moved into his pocket. The bottle was there. Did anyone miss it? Were they searching for a thief?

"That is most unfortunate." The healer spoke slightly louder than before.

"Definitely," Madam Smethwyk agreed. "Yaxley is cunning. Now, that he is warned, he won't even eat the food that is served to him at the Slytherin table without checking it first."

"Etienne meant well," Professor Jones mumbled.

"Our current DADA assistant," Madam Smethwyk explained. "He's brilliant at theory, but lacks hands-on experience. One cannot to blame him, though. He's but twenty."

"What do we do now?" Professor Jones was pretty close to tears. "We can't let her starve to death... The poor girl can't even drink anymore!"

"I will take Miss Donovan to St Mungo's," the healer answered. "Notify her parents so they can visit her."

"They are Muggles," Professor Jones sighed.

"Well, we've had Muggles visiting before. I'm sure we can set up some discreet arrangement for the Donovans," the healer told her. Turning to Albus and Scorpius, she said, "My apologies, gentlemen, but there is nothing I can currently do for you. You may leave."

As they left, Glynnis – carrying the large Get-Well-Card – and Trayi walked in. Rose and Joseph caught up with Albus and Scorpius out in the hall a minute later.

"Were they talking about Nancy?" Rose asked at once.

"Yes, they were," Scorpius said.

"I believe they think now that Yaxley has cursed her as well," Rose told them. "One of Nancy's friends saw him coming out of the infirmary this morning when Madam Smethwyk was away fetching dittany from the greenhouses."

"Nancy is very ill," Joseph said. "Dey say it's a Gas-tro-en-te-ri-tis Curse."

"I've never heard of such a curse before," Rose added. "I'm about to go to the library. I want to look it up in the Grand Spell Lexicon."

"I'll come along," Scorpius said without hesitation. "Al?"

Albus nodded.

-

The Grand Spell Lexicon wasn't one book, but twenty-six. Gastroenteritis wasn't one spell, but the collective name for a score of nasty hexes.

Albus was lost as soon as he started reading. Whoever had written this encyclopaedia had tried to cover every side topic from spell etymology to anecdotes about prominent victims. Rose, on the contrary, seemed comfortable with the maze of footnotes and cross-references. Joseph was constantly thumbing through his dictionary, a bemused expression on his face.

After a few minutes, Scorpius shoved an open book in front of Albus.

_Veritaserum or Truth Serum is considered one of the most advanced potions_, Albus read. "Did you change your mind?" he asked under his breath.

"You heard Professor Jones, didn't you?"

Albus saw the woman's grief-stricken face before his mind's eye. She definitely feared for Nancy Donovan's life.

"What she said about Nancy?" he whispered.

"Yes. People can survive for a while without food but not without water. So, Nancy Donovan cannot wait for that bloody hex to wear off all by itself – she'll die within days. That's what Professor Jones is afraid of," Scorpius went on, his voice very low. "Al, stealing someone's essay is not a crime punishable by death. Right?"

"Of course not!"

A small smile crossed Scorpius's face. "Okay, then. We are in on this together." He pointed to a passage further down the page. "Look here."

_It is essential that the targeted person does not realise your intentions because Veritaserum works best upon the unsuspecting, the vulnerable and those insufficiently skilled to protect themselves against it. Besides the traditional antidote, which is difficult to brew but generates good results, a capable witch or wizard can employ Occlumency to counteract the main effect of Veritaserum. Other, less reliable methods are sealing one's own throat and faking a declaration of innocence or transforming the potion into something else before it touches the lips. Please note that wandwork is not necessarily required for any of these options._

"See?" Scorpius whispered. "That's why the teachers will achieve nothing by giving him the drug again. But we can do it. Yaxley won't suspect _us_ to have Veritaserum."

"All right," Albus said softly. "Let's find out how much he has to drink."

Together, they read on. The dosage for the average adult person was three drops for approximately twenty-one minutes of questioning. More than six drops were not to be administered without the supervision of an experienced healer since such high dosages posed the risk of random memory loss or irreversible brain damage. Smaller amounts, however, had only minor side effects like ravenous hunger and, subsequently, sleepiness.

"Should we bring a sandwich and a pillow?" Scorpius mumbled.

"Above all, we need a fail-proof method to feed him the stuff," Albus whispered back.

"Any ideas?"

"Not yet."

Across the table, Rose closed the book with a snap. "That's really very complicated magic." She sounded almost apologetic. "I can't explain how Yaxley pulled that off. Seems he's cleverer than people think. Or than Victoire says, anyway."

-

On the way back to the Ravenclaw tower, Joseph asked Rose whether she would proofread his homework since he didn't want to bother Persephone at the moment. She agreed and remained with him in the common room whereas Albus and Scorpius retired to their dormitory.

Devising a plan for administering Veritaserum to Julius Yaxley proved to be difficult. _How_ was a tricky question, but _where_ and _when_ turned out to be even trickier. They were no closer to a solution after an hour's brain storming than they had been at the beginning.

"What about this: Instead of seeking him, we let him find us," Scorpius suggested.

"Like this morning by the lake? Yes, cool, but we still have to sit in some place where he happens to come along."

"Then we have to position ourselves at the Slytherin table."

"Well... if all else fails..."

"I was joking!" Scorpius rolled his eyes. "The other Slytherins will have beaten us up ten times before we ever get a glimpse of Yaxley!"

"So what shall we do?"

"I don't know," Scorpius sighed.

"We could send him an owl and try to lure him somewhere."

Scorpius shrugged and started leafing through the neat stack of written music on his bedside table. Albus watched him, feeling a small pang of envy. Making music was a means for Scorpius to escape reality, a refuge, a secret realm where he found his peace of mind. Albus couldn't judge the quality of Scorpius's performance; he had next to no expertise on the matter. Occasionally, Scorpius broke off in the middle of a piece and started anew a few notes earlier, but in general, Albus liked listening to him.

"McCartney," Scorpius announced, "Obladi, Oblada."

Albus knew the song. It was Scorpius's remedy of choice when homework seemed to eat up more than nine tenths of their time. In other words, Albus had heard it regularly.

Scorpius began at an unusual slow pace, as if he was meditating on the melody. Yet gradually, the tempo picked up, and soon Albus found himself tapping his foot in the rhythm of the now cheerful song.

Scorpius only stopped playing when Joseph sauntered in.

"All spelling errors are fixed," Joseph stated with relish. "And did you hear the news? Yaxley has detention! He has to clean out the waste tanks in the Rubbish Room. Tonight at eight dirty... _thirty_."

"But – that's perfect!" Scorpius, half astonished, half relieved, breathed.

And Albus, realising the tremendous potential of a lonely corridor like the one leading to the Rubbish Room as well, exclaimed, "Joseph, you're great."

"Yes?" Joseph beamed. "Thirty, thirty, _thirty_... wow!"

-

One hour later at dinner, Albus and Scorpius slipped several fruits into a bag they had brought along. They told their comrades that they intended to give the apples and peaches to Persephone. A large piece of pastry went the same way, unnoticed. And at the end of the meal, Albus created a distraction by upsetting the table decoration so Scorpius could grab two glasses of pumpkin juice and put them into the bag as well.

While Scorpius quickly left with the precarious freight in his bag, Albus excused himself by saying that James wanted to see him.

James had finished eating and was chatting with his friends. Albus tapped him on the shoulder. "Can I speak to you in private?" he asked softly.

As expected, James made a show of having to attend to family matters. Everyone in the vicinity stared unashamedly at Albus's hair. Albus glared back, but kept quiet.

Eventually, James went some steps aside with him and, never wasting a chance to tease his younger brother, remarked, "You look really cute, you know. I daresay Mum will be delighted."

"Violet is all the rage these days," Albus said with just enough impatience to make his brother happy. "Why don't dunderheads like you get this?"

"I don't concern myself with fashion," James answered loftily. Then, he grinned. "I hate to admit it but you bear that quite well. So, what can I do for you, little bro?"

"Assist us. Scorpius and I want to get back at Yaxley."

"Ha! I _knew_ you would see reason one day!"

"Yeah, seems so..." Albus said vaguely. "So, are you in on it?"

"Naturally! What are you up to? Ambush him in a toilet cubicle?"

"Well, no. The plan says we trick him into drinking some very specially spiced pumpkin juice."

"Sounds intriguing. What special effect will that be?"

"I'm banking on your curiosity, James. If I told you right now, you might forget to show up."

"Me missing out on a prank? You wound me!"

"Anyway. It's tonight at eight fifteen in the corridor that leads to the Rubbish Room."

Albus turned and left. Telling James more would only serve to lessen his brother's interest. But Albus wanted him around in case something went wrong. Unlike Rose and Joseph, James was capable of casting a Stunner.

Rose and Joseph were waiting for him outside the Great Hall.

"What did James want?" Rose asked.

Albus made an indifferent gesture. "Complimenting me on my new hairstyle."

Rose snorted. "He really could be a nice guy if he didn't take so much pleasure in being a pest."

"Yeah. One could think he was related to your Dad."

She burst into giggles.


	4. The Interrogation

Of Boys and Spells

Chapter 4: The Interrogation

-

James was right on time. However, he wasn't alone. His whole gang – two girls and four boys, one of whom was Jean-Paul Weasley – was assembled at the meeting place.

"A bit of back-up won't hurt," he said, sounding for all the world like Grandma Weasley. "I bet you haven't thought of Yaxley's buddies. There's no guarantee that he'll be on his own."

Albus, feeling embarrassed, simply shook his head. It irked him that James, of all people, was the one who spotted a flaw in his fine plan, especially because the flaw was the same one as in the last endeavour – he hadn't considered the possibility of outsiders appearing on the scene by sheer coincidence.

"That's good foresight on your part," Scorpius said, looking up at James who was nearly a foot taller. "But Yaxley mustn't see any of you or he will know at once it's a trap."

"You want us to _hide_?" James asked with sincere disappointment.

"No way!" the blonde girl protested. The other one, dark-skinned and wearing dreadlocks, muttered something about finally getting even with the bloody bully.

Albus turned to his brother. "Our plan won't work if you're-"

"What plan?" the blonde girl interrupted him. "I thought Jimmy was in charge here!"

"Apparently not," Jean-Paul said. "Come on, Al, introduce us to your marvellous plan."

"The most important thing is that he drinks the juice!" Albus said, looking beseechingly at his cousin, his brother, and the other third years. "Afterwards, you can come out and present yourselves."

"Okay, as long as we can have a go at him we'll wait and look what your mysterious brew does, little bro," James conceded generously. He turned to his comrades and said softly, "Marauders, hide."

They disappeared within seconds and almost without noise. Luckily, there was no shortage of hiding places. The hallway was cramped with rusty suits of armour and some of the ugliest statues Hogwarts had on offer. The girls slipped into a niche obscured by an array of armour suits, James and Jean-Paul crouched down behind the nearest pedestals, and the other boys ducked out of sight behind the massive statue of Crassus the Large.

Albus and Scorpius hastened to set up their chessboard. They placed two half-filled glasses of pumpkin juice right next to them on a plinth. It was nearly half past eight; Yaxley was bound to arrive at any moment.

They had to wait less than three minutes. Albus felt a surge of gratitude towards his brother as soon as he spotted – out off the corner of his eyes – three seventh-year Slytherins approaching. He didn't turn his head, however. Like Scorpius, he pretended to be immersed in the game.

"Ah, what do we have here?" Yaxley sneered, bearing down at them. Turning to his companions, he asked, "Aren't they cute? The unnatural colour of the hair so highlights the unnatural relationship."

His classmates laughed obediently.

Yaxley frowned at Scorpius. "What are you doing here?" he demanded sharply.

"Er... we're playing chess," Scorpius said.

"Ah, I can see that. But why here, in this remote part of the castle?"

"Because people laugh at our hair," Albus snapped. "And that is your fault!"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Yaxley made. He casually raised his left foot and knocked one of the glasses over. The juice spilled out over the chessboard. The drenched pieces ran for cover, screaming.

"Hey! That was my pumpkin juice!" Scorpius shouted.

"Ah... yours, was it? Won't the son of righteous and selfless Harry The Hero Potter share his pumpkin juice with you?"

"That's not the point!" Albus yelled, trying not to panic. Yaxley had to drink the potion, not to spill it!

"Ah, is it not? What is the point?"

"The point is that you can't just come here and drink our pumpkin juice!"

A bout of nasty laughter erupted from Yaxley's chest. "Ah indeed, can't I?" He crabbed the remaining glass and raised it as if in a toast. "Here is to splitting up your revolting alliance!"

He downed the liquid in one go.

Although Albus and Scorpius exchanged glances that conveyed at once relief, excitement, and triumph, the two other Slytherins only became suspicious when the glass fell from Yaxley's suddenly limp fingers.

"You little imps," one of them yelled in alarm, "what was-"

Yaxley swayed dangerously. His classmates leapt to his side and struggled to keep him upright. He was heavy, though, his knees buckled, and they had to lower him to the floor.

That was the moment for James and his friends. They emerged as one and cast Stunning Spells, causing the Slytherins to slump down on either side of Yaxley.

Yaxley definitely looked drugged – his eyes were unfocussed, and his mouth hung slightly open.

"What was in that juice?" the dark girl asked nervously.

"Truth Serum," Albus said.

The girl gasped and took a step backwards.

James stared at him. "Truth Serum? Are you out of your mind?"

"No, I'm not! We have to find out what he did to Sepho-"

"Sepho?" Jean-Paul cut across him. "What-"

"Stop! Please, stop!" Scorpius cried imploringly. "We mustn't waste time! The effect won't last very long; we used only two drops." He crouched down in front of Yaxley and asked, "What is your name?"

"Julius Gaius Yaxley," came the impassive answer. The potion seemed to work like described in the book.

"What curse did you use on Nancy Donovan?" Scorpius asked.

"I put her under an Imperius Curse."

There was absolute silence. Nine pairs of eyes stared down at the burly Slytherin. It was so quiet, Albus could hear his chessmen shuffle their feet.

"Why?" Scorpius breathed.

"Ah, she is a worthless Mudblood, isn't she. I used her as a tool."

Albus could hardly believe his ears. This was unadulterated Death Eater ideology!

Since Scorpius seemed too baffled to continue, James took over. "What did you use her for?" he asked.

"First, I ordered her to join the competition for the longest Transfiguration essay. Then, I ordered her to steal the essay of that Auror offspring. A few days later, I ordered her to walk around in her underwear. Bragging, stealing, and behaving indecently will make the so-called 'Muggleborns' look bad. This morning, I ordered her to stop eating and drinking. That will make sure there is one of those Mudbloods less in the world."

"You want her to die?" the dark girl asked, outraged.

"I don't care if she does."

"Why?" Scorpius asked again.

"Ah, why should I... She isn't worth anything. Besides, it's fun to see the teachers fret. They never bother that much if a Slytherin is suffering."

The last sentence caused a series of hissed comments, stretching from _he does have a point there_ to _who cares._ Scorpius tried in vain to calm the others down; nobody paid heed to him. And nobody paid heed to the approaching footsteps. Albus positively jumped when all of a sudden a warm, mellow voice asked behind him, "What happened here?"

The man wore a brown cape and a soft-brimmed hat of the same colour. Albus saw only his back because the stranger bent down to examine the three motionless figures on the floor.

"They're only Stunned," James said. He seemed unusually subdued.

The man looked up. "James, aren't you?"

The dark girl moved forward. "Dad," she croaked, pointing to Yaxley, "he's put a girl under the Imperius Curse!"

The man straightened up. "Ella?" he said in surprise. "What are you talking about?"

"He's that Yaxley of Slytherin," Ella said, fighting for composure. "He admitted that he's put a first-year Hufflepuff, Nancy Donovan, under the Imperius Curse."

"And he just told you that?" The man regarded Yaxley again. "He's not master of his senses. What happened to _him_?"

Ella looked down at her feet and said nothing.

"James?" the man said sharply. "What is going on here?"

James looked down as well, blushing profusely.

"It was our idea," Albus heard himself say. "We gave Yaxley Veritaserum, but only-"

The man spun round, seized Albus and forced his chin up so he had to look him fully into the face. With a mixture of relief and dismay, Albus realised that he'd seen him before. He was a colleague of his father's.

"Veritaserum?" Mr Thomas exclaimed. "Are you mad, boy?" Over his shoulder, he thundered into the direction of his daughter, "Bloody hell, Ella! What did you think you were doing?"

"We didn't know about the Truth Serum, Dad!" the girl said defensively. "James only said his brother wanted revenge for that violet hair."

The man scrutinised Albus again and then released him. "I almost didn't recognise you," he muttered. "Don't tell me dishing out Veritaserum was _your_ idea!"

"Sir?" Scorpius said urgently. "Can't we sort that out later? We still have to ask what curse he used on Sepho. The potion won't work long. We used only two drops-"

Hearing about the low dosage caused Mr Thomas to snap into action. He knelt down and asked Yaxley, "Can you understand me?"

"Yes, I do." Yaxley spoke as dispassionately as before.

"What Curse did you use on Mr Sepho?"

"None."

Albus heart skipped a beat. Was it already too late? However, Yaxley's gaze was still unfocused and his muscles slack.

"But he did!" Scorpius said with vehemence. He knelt next to Mr Thomas. "What Curse did you put on Persephone Ackerley?"

"I put Locomotor Mortis on her."

"Did you make it a Lingering Curse?"

"I did."

"What was the exact wording of the curse?"

"Locomotor Mortis Aliquamdium Vigintiduum."

"How are the last two words spelled?" Scorpius inquired, while wrenching a notebook out of his coat. He also produced a fountain pen. "Letter by letter?"

Scorpius carefully wrote down what Yaxley recited. He wasn't aware that everyone, including Mr Thomas, was watching him.

Once Yaxley had uttered the last letter, Mr Thomas gently touched Scorpius's shoulder. "You do this quite professionally, young man," he said, "but now let me conduct my interrogation."

Mr Thomas reeled his questions off rather quickly. Most of them concerned the Imperius Curse and the things Nancy had been forced to do. Yaxley answered them all, promptly and stoically. He again voiced his contempt for Muggleborns. Without the slightest trace of emotion, he told the Auror that he wouldn't mind if Nancy Donovan starved to death.

When the topic seemed sufficiently explored, Mr Thomas turned to asking about Persephone again. "Why did you hex Miss Ackerley?"

"She got in the way. I had aimed at that Auror offspring."

Yaxley suddenly gave a violent shudder and sat up straight. His eyes widened in shock when he found himself face to face with a stranger.

The Auror had his wand ready. He calmly murmured a spell, and Yaxley sank back and closed his eyes.

"Sleeping Spell," Mr Thomas said, raising. "Nothing to worry. – But now to you, ladies and gentlemen. I imagine you're bursting with desire to tell your friends and housemates what you've just witnessed. Here's a piece of advice: Don't. Your teachers might consider the use of Veritaserum on fellow students an offence worth expulsion. There's the possibility that they won't distinguish between the mastermind who actually devised the plan and those who just came along. You know the saying: In for an egg, in for a dragon. Right?"

Two or three of the children nodded.

Albus did not nod, though. The amount of adrenaline that pounded through his veins made him dizzy. He was going to be expelled for helping to save a girl's life? And there was Yaxley using an Unforgivable Curse, and this Mr Thomas – _an Auror!_ – stood here and said nothing about the hateful Slytherin deserving to be expelled?!

"At the very best, you'd lose your house an estimated thousand points," Mr Thomas went on.

"But that's not fair!" Albus burst out. A hand grabbed him from behind. Shaking it off, he cried, "We only tried to help!" He was seized again, with two hands this time, and a firmer grip. It was Scorpius.

"Al, calm down!" Scorpius pleaded, stricken with panic.

"No!" Albus retaliated. He didn't quite succeed in shaking himself free, but he rounded on Mr Thomas nonetheless, "Look, Etienne Delacour tried to use Veritaserum, but he messed up. The potion is no use when the drinker knows about it, and that's why the teachers couldn't try again. And you couldn't have done it, either. Yaxley would have known you're an Auror. See? _We_ could! He had no suspicion because he thought those drinks were ours-" He had to pause for breath. To his horror and chagrin, there lingered a half-smile on the Auror's lips. "Nancy Donovan could have died!" he said, exasperated. "They thought Yaxley put a Lingering Gastroenteritis Curse on her. Without knowing the exact wording, even the healer from St Mungo's couldn't do a thing to help her! I'm going to be expelled for this? What about Yaxley, then? He used an Unforgivable!"

At least, the provocative smile had vanished from Mr Thomas's face. The man shook his head. "Albus Potter," he said softly, "why am I not surprised?"

Albus held the man's gaze. He wasn't going to cringe now.

"I assure you, Julius Yaxley will be punished accordingly," Mr Thomas said to the audience in general. "But what you did was... well, you can't expect me to say _well done_. Your headmistress called me to investigate into the mysterious curses placed on first-year students. In a sense, you saved me work. But still, besides being illegal, what you did was pretty reckless. Do you have any idea what Julius Yaxley could have done to _you_?" He turned to Albus, asking, "And this was truly your idea? You're not just covering up for your brother?"

"James is here because I asked him to," Albus said firmly. "And he brought his friends because he thought we needed more _back-up_."

"Which was probably a good thing, considering that you're a first-year and your target wasn't alone." The odd half-smile reappeared to the man's face. "On the other hand, I've heard of two first-years bringing down mountain trolls on their own. Anyway, Albus, where is the remainder of the Serum?"

Albus looked round for their bag. They had stuffed it somewhere, but where?

"Here," Scorpius said, pulling it out of the narrow gap between one of the plinths and the wall.

Mr Thomas unceremoniously snatched the bag out of Scorpius's hands and searched its contents. He confiscated the little flask without another word. He also brought out the pastry, wrapped in paper tissue. "What's that good for?" he wondered.

"Er..." Scorpius said, "that's because of the side effect."

Mr Thomas gave Scorpius a slow, probing look. "Are you Albus's friend?" he asked at length.

Scorpius nodded.

"May I have your notes concerning the Lingering Curse?"

Scorpius nodded again. He ripped the page out of the book and handed it to Mr Thomas. "Here you are. Show it to Madam Smethwyk, please."

The man cleared his throat. "Thank you."

"It's all right," Scorpius muttered. "We wanted to help."

For some reason, Mr Thomas seemed slightly taken aback. He looked Scorpius up and down, slowly and carefully. Scorpius shifted uncomfortably under the intense gaze.

The others were getting restless, too, and Mr Thomas returned his attention to them."Back to business, ladies and gentlemen. Do I have your word that you will keep quiet about the incident?"

They all nodded, mutely.

"Well, I will take the blame for the unauthorised use of Veritaserum. I hope nobody will kick up a fuss. After all, a student's life was at stake," the man said gravely. Turning once more to Albus, he added in a low voice, "I will have to report to your father, though. And I have an inkling that he won't be overly delighted."

"Yes, Sir," Albus mumbled. _Not being overly delighted_ was definitely an understatement. Parents had a tendency of getting into a state if their children did something dangerous. "But you won't tell him the names of the others, please?"

For the third time, the curios half-smile was back. "Since I don't know most of them anyway, I won't."

"Thanks."

"All right," Mr Thomas said more loudly. "I want you to leave now, without further delay and as inconspicuously as you can manage. And Ella, tell the first teacher you meet where I am and that I would like Professor McGonagall and the Head of Slytherin House to join me."

-

They walked down the corridor in silence. Despite the telling-off, despite the prospect of getting another one from his father soon, Albus felt he had achieved something worthwhile.

Once they were out of earshot, one of the boys said, "We were damn lucky, Ella, that was your Dad instead of just any Auror."

Ella didn't answer.

"Wrong," Jean-Paul said in her place. "We are damn lucky that my cousins are involved because _their_ Dad is Mr Thomas's boss."

- - - - -


	5. Popular Colours

Of Boys and Spells

Chapter 5: Popular Colours

-

The last lesson for the year was Herbology. Neville – Professor Longbottom – assigned various tasks to the students, saying he wanted the greenhouses neat and tidy before the holidays started. Al and Scorpius had to harvest Quiverberries.

The task was bordering on impossibility. As soon as Albus reached for a twig, the bush pulled back. Sometimes, Scorpius managed to grab the recoiling branch and held it steady so Albus could cut through the dried little stalks that suspended each bunch of shining white berries. The rest of the bush kept trembling as if an earthquake were taking place.

They hadn't worked together in Herbology before. Neville usually made a point in having mixed teams with students from both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Thus, they had come to know all the Hufflepuffs of their year quite well.

A little way off, Persephone and Nancy Donovan sat at a makeshift table, examining dittany seeds through magnifying glasses.

Persephone had been released from the hospital wing yesterday morning. She could move her legs at will, but she was still far from walking properly. The prefects Levitated her up and down the stairs of Ravenclaw tower. Joseph, Scorpius, and Al, taking turns, had carried her most of the way to the greenhouses.

Nancy had returned from St Mungo's the previous night. She looked pale and frail, and her housemates fussed just as much over her as the Ravenclaws did with Persephone. Nancy had been cleared of all charges. The fifty amber gems were back in the giant hour-glass in the Entrance Hall, which meant that, by now, the Great Hall was decked out in bright yellow and velvety black. A stylish banner showing the Hufflepuff badger was covering half the wall behind the teachers' table.

Slytherin, on the other hand, had lost so many points due to Yaxley's foul deeds that the house had ended up in the negatives. Al wasn't sure what to think about this. Admittedly, the Slytherins were a snobbish bunch on the whole, but did they deserve such a huge amount of humiliation because one of them had turned out to be a criminal?

Yaxley was in pre-trial confinement. The _Daily Prophet_ had published short interviews with Dean Thomas, the Auror who had arrested the delinquent, and Prudence Clearwater, an elder of the Wizengamot. They didn't go much into detail in order to protect the privacy of the harmed girls; Clearwater had stated, however, that Yaxley was of age and therefore to be held responsible for the deliberate and unforced use of an Unforgivable Curse.

Nobody, especially no teacher, seemed to be aware of Albus or Scorpius's special involvement in the affair. So far, there'd been neither questions nor remarks that hinted of any secret knowledge. Obviously, Mr Thomas had been as good as his word, and James and his friends were keeping silent as well. Albus could imagine how much not being able to brag about such a daring adventure irked his brother.

He cut off another small bunch of Quiverberries and placed them in the basket nearby. Scorpius cautiously let go of the branch and took a step backwards.

The bush calmed down, if only slightly.

"There," Scorpius said, pointing. "See it?"

Albus nodded. Slowly, he moved his arm towards the ripe fruit. The branch whizzed back and smashed straight into Scorpius's waiting hands. Albus advanced and, keeping a wary eye on the erratic movements of the other branches, seized the bunch of berries. The little stalks usually proved to be much tougher than their withered look suggested. Cutting them took real effort.

"Good work," Neville said, holding the basket out to Albus. "Harvesting Quiverberries is no doddle. But you two seem perfect as a team."

"Thank you, Professor Longbottom," Scorpius said politely.

"Do you happen to know why Quiverberry bushes fidget like this?" Neville asked.

Both boys shook their heads.

"They are afraid of getting hurt," Neville explained. "Of course, that risk would be a great deal smaller if they didn't move."

"Cutting off the fruits hurts them?" Albus asked, letting the scissors sink.

"Well, magic plants have strange properties sometimes. Quiverberry bushes do feel pain when you cut into green wood. The dried stalks are numb, though. Severing them does no harm."

Scorpius looked pensive. "Do they learn?" he asked. "When we are careful not to hurt them, will they realise that things would go smoother without the squirming?"

Neville studied Scorpius's face in much the same manner as Mr Thomas had done a few days ago. "No," he said, taking out his wand. "They are plants and entirely brainless. There is, however, a spell that immobilises them. _Sedatus!_"

Instantly, the bush became motionless.

Neville smiled the mysterious, dreamy smile of his. It softened the scars that criss-crossed his face and made him look younger. Shifting his gaze to Albus, he said, "You may leave as soon as you're done here. I bet you haven't packed your trunks, yet."

-

They were out of the greenhouse twenty minutes later. Neville had conjured up a wheelchair for Persephone. Pushing it across the lawn was a bit of a challenge, but less exhausting than carrying her.

At the foot of the stairs that led to the front door, they encountered an assembly of older students. Unusually enough, there were several Slytherins involved in a serious conversation with students of other houses.

Albus spotted Angelique in the crowd and walked up to her. She simply nodded before he had even opened his mouth and strode past him to where Persephone and Scorpius were waiting. She helped the younger girl to climb out of the wheelchair and Levitated her up the stairs – not only the short flight to the Entrance Hall but all the way up to the Ravenclaw common room. En route there, she told Albus the latest news: Professor Selwyn had handed in her resignation.

Upon entering the common room, Angelique cancelled the Levitation Spell. Unfortunately, Persephone lost her balance the instant she had to stand on her own feet. In the split second between lurching and falling, she tried – arms flailing wildly – to hold on to something. But all she was able to grab was the silvery locket that Angelique wore around her neck. The chain broke as the girl fell backwards.

Albus and Scorpius rushed to help her up.

Persephone moaned.

"Did you hurt yourself?" Scorpius asked, holding her steady.

"No. It's just... I broke this," she said miserably, indicating the locket.

It hung open, and all three of them gazed for a long moment at Angelique's smiling parents – at her mother's incredibly beauty and Uncle Bill's damaged, but kind face.

"I'm so sorry," Persephone said, handing the locket back.

"Don't worry, dear. It's me who should apologise," Angelique muttered. She fitted the pieces together and, murmuring spells, tapped them twice with her wand. "See?" she said a bit louder. "Such things can be repaired, contrary to my father's face."

"Was it an accident?" Persephone asked, unable to stay her curiosity.

"It happened in the war," Angelique said, giving Scorpius a pointed look. His eyes went wide in sudden apprehension, which evidently surprised her. "You _know_?" she whispered. "You _do_ know?"

Scorpius nodded, biting his lip.

"Don't tell me your father is still bragging about his evil deeds!" There was danger in her voice. Like her mother, she could become very unpleasant if crossed. _Veelablood_, Uncle Ron liked to comment on their temper.

"Angel, don't," Albus pleaded. "It's not _his_ fault."

She ignored him. Instead, she continued to glare at Scorpius. "So, how does your father _justify_ what he did?"

"He doesn't... we read... Rose found a book in the library. About the trials." Scorpius, though almost trembling, didn't avoid her eyes. "My Dad has never mentioned yours."

Angelique made a muffled sound in her throat. Her scary Veela aura vanished from one second to the next, and she walked off without another word.

Persephone looked rather bewildered. "Scorpius... you said your father didn't commit any crimes. What did he do to Al's uncle?"

Scorpius didn't answer. He seemed close to tears.

Albus took a deep breath. "In his sixth year here in Hogwarts, Scorpius's Dad let a group of Death Eaters into the castle. Among them was a werewolf, and he attacked my Uncle."

"In his sixth year?" Persephone looked back and forth between the two boys. "Why would he help Death Eaters? He was still a student; he can't already have been one of them!"

"He was," Scorpius said in strangled tones.

"But," Persephone protested again, "he can't have been older than sixteen!"

"Look, Sepho," Albus said urgently, "Voldemort didn't bother with laws or whether people were of age."

The girl paused, considering this.

"I'm sorry, Sepho. I can't tell you why." Scorpius had regained some of his composure. "My Dad doesn't talk about his past. I only know some facts, the ones that were in the book."

"Can I read it?" Persephone asked, turning to Albus. "Does Rose still have it?"

Albus shook his head. "No. Madam Pince put it into the Restricted Section."

Without warning, the girl fired up. "How very sensible of her! And I bet she thinks that's only for our own good. Sometimes, I think all adults are idiots. Why else do they treat us as if _we_ were idiots – silly babies who wouldn't understand anyway? So, why bother with explanations? It's always _girl, do this_ or _you mustn't do that_, and when you ask, why, then all you hear is _because I'm older and have more knowledge than you do_. Or some other such rubbish. What about sharing that precious knowledge with us so we can see for ourselves?" She had talked herself into a real wrath. Her cheeks were flushed and her small, skinny body radiated energy. "Scorpius, here is an idea of why your Dad joined the Death Eaters at the age of sixteen: because his parents told him to. And if he asked why, he most likely got the standard lecture – _it's a family tradition_, _you have to live up to our oh-so-good name_, and _no, there's absolutely no need to ponder this because we're your parents and know what is best for-_"

She faltered, startled, as Scorpius's eyes were suddenly brimming with tears.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I didn't mean to hurt you..."

Scorpius gently shook his head, trying to smile and failing.

"Scorpius, I have something to confess," the girl said slowly. "When I was home for the Yule holidays, I foolishly told my parents that you were in Ravenclaw. Dad warned me to be watchful. He wasn't sure Malfoys could truly be trusted he said. My Mum was more blunt. She ordered me to stay clear of you. Naturally, I asked why, and I learned that all Malfoys have been scumbags since the dawn of time. You see it isn't always superior knowledge. Sometimes, we are just fed old prejudices."

Scorpius sniffed.

"No, wait!" Persephone was speaking more quickly now. "That wasn't all. An hour ago, Nancy told me what Mr Thomas, the Auror, had told her: Albus Potter and another boy with violet hair helped him to make Yaxley spill the beans. He didn't say what you did because of the ongoing investigations and stuff, and I reckon you aren't allowed to say much, either. So, let's skip the details. What I want to point out is this, Scorpius: Helping Aurors to save Muggleborn Hufflepuff students is totally inappropriate behaviour for _scumbags_."

She'd made it worse. Scorpius now sniffed in earnest.

Persephone took a step towards him – that was, she tried to do so. She swayed again. Albus instinctively reached out to catch her, and so, despite the tears, did Scorpius. Since Albus held her firmly with his right hand and put his left arm around Scorpius's shoulders, they ended up in a three-sided hug. Hugging Scorpius was, in Albus's opinion, what Persephone had attempted to do. It was certainly what he wanted to do.

"Steady, mate," he whispered. He threw a wary glance around. The common room was only scarcely peopled, and everyone present was minding their own business. However, the last thing Albus wanted to happen was for somebody else to have a go at Scorpius.

Scorpius swallowed several times in order to master his agitation. He calmed down only slowly; they were still standing huddled together when Rose and Joseph came in.

Joseph eyed Albus's arm around the small of Persephone's back with a critical air while Rose inquired what was going on.

"Just a clash with Angel," Albus said, not feeling like providing elaborate explanations. "You know how she can be..."

Rose gave him a quick, quizzical look. Scorpius she gave a longer one. When he was finally done blowing his nose and raised his blotchy eyes to her, she tensed visibly.

"Could you help Sepho to her room?" Scorpius mumbled.

And Rose understood. With an eagerness that was feigned but also charming in a way, she turned to Joseph, asking, "You'll carry her, right?"

"My pleasure, ma'am," Joseph said, perhaps not getting the whole message behind the words but already replacing Albus's hand with his own. He hoisted Persephone up onto his arms, and Rose ran ahead to open the door to the girls' dormitories.

Scorpius let out a deep sigh.

Albus pointed to a wet streak on Scorpius's cheek. "Wipe that off," he said softly.

Scorpius did. "Pathetic, aren't I?"

"No. Sepho is quite right-"

"I would so like to talk to my Dad! But I can't. I can't do that to him." The words spilled out like water from a broken pipe. "He made a rule after my first letter home – I'm only to use first names, never surnames. You're just Al, Professor Longbottom is _The Herbology Teacher_ and so on. And ten minutes ago, it dawned on me why. Why he's so scared. His aunt is only one piece in the puzzle, and maybe not even the worst. Anyone called Weasley will remind him of a boy who got injured by a werewolf. A Robert Ackerley bore witness in his trial – he might be related to Sepho. The other guy who gave testimony was a Dean Thomas – the same Mr Thomas as the Auror from last Saturday? I don't know. He's too afraid even to hear names spoken, and I don't know a thing. It's like running in a maze. With every turn I take, I have to be prepared for new accusations, for meeting another Blancmange or another Yaxley. And sometimes, the assault comes right out of the blue like right here and now. What am I to tell people like your cousin? I'm sorry that I failed to advise my Dad to do better? Even though it is technically correct that none of the war crimes is _my_ fault – me saying so won't make anyone feel any better. So what am I to do?"

Albus couldn't give answers he didn't have himself. He was no more in possession of the ultimate truth than Scorpius was. For instance – his Dad had never told him that he had spoken in favour of Scorpius's grandmother during the trials. Albus had had to learn this bit of trivia from Vallon's report. What else was there he and Scorpius didn't know?

"What about confiding in your Mum?" he said in a feeble attempt to offer advice.

"She will listen, always, no matter what the trouble might be. But..."

"Yes, sure," Albus mumbled. Scorpius's Mum would hardly comprehend the problem in its entirety. "It was a silly idea."

"No, not silly, Al," Scorpius said. "She can give me guidance in a general way. And she will. I'm sure of that. But I have some questions that only Dad can answer."

-

Scorpius spent the remainder of the afternoon brooding behind his flute.

Albus didn't know how to cheer him up. He couldn't even keep himself from brooding while he – somewhat haphazardly – packed his trunk. An awfully large number of people expected Scorpius to make amends for his father's bad deeds, just as they expected him to live up to his father's glorious ones. It wasn't fair. Why couldn't they be judged by their own strengths and failings?

Scorpius's flute kept weeping, and Cedric and Aidan kept making a great amount of racket to drone out the mournful, and sometimes dissonant, music.

Albus wished Joseph was there to crack a joke, or to tell the twins they might know a Bludger from a Quaffle but never a slow waltz from a blues, or to simply mispronounce a word in a manner that would make everybody chuckle. But Joseph didn't show up.

-

Joseph came down to dinner with his hair dyed violet. Rose and Persephone had violet highlights. Albus only gulped, unable to say a word; Scorpius gaped, especially at Rose.

The girls giggled. Joseph shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"You look... great," Scorpius finally managed.

Persephone grinned broadly. "As great as you."

"Victoire helped with the Dying Spell," Rose explained. "She's very skilled at doing hair. And don't worry; it's only temporary. Joseph will be back to normal tomorrow morning. The highlights may last for the entire weekend."

"You'll see," Joseph said, still a bit sheepish. "Violet will really catch on."

"That might happen indeed " – Persephone gestured down the table – "once people have seen Victoire Weasley."

Albus craned his neck to catch a glimpse of his oldest cousin. Her long hair was mauve instead of reddish-blonde, wrought into a tower-like structure, and embellished with jasmine flowers. "Wow!" was the only comment he could come up with.

Victoire's appearance drew a great deal of attention not only from the Ravenclaw table, but also from the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors. Every other second somebody turned their head to look at her – the boys quite often in unconcealed admiration and the girls sometimes with barely suppressed envy. The little group around Albus got their share of curious stares as well. Among the grins and sniggers there were also encouraging nods or the occasional thumbs-up.

After a while, Albus glanced at his left neighbour. Scorpius was decorating the rim of his plate with bits of fat pork – and smiling quietly.

- - - - -


	6. Family Affairs

Of Boys and Spells

Chapter 6: Family Affairs

-

The next morning, the carriages took them down to Hogsmeade station where the Express was waiting for them. The engine puffed white, billowing clouds into the otherwise clear sky that stretched over the rolling hills covered in lush green and, where rape-seeds grew, vivid yellow. They were going home for the summer.

The thought of having to talk to his Dad tonight crossed Albus's mind briefly but he let it glide away as they boarded the train.

He, Rose, Scorpius, Persephone, and Joseph had a compartment to themselves. Rose and he unpacked their chessmen and started playing. Joseph was chatting happily about aeroplanes – he was going to a place called Vienna this very afternoon.

By and by, the conversation turned to other topics – from the architectural eccentricities of Vienna to legends about the river Danube, later to the famous dragon reservation in Romania, and from dragons to more domestic animals like Crups and Kneazles, and then to names for them. Talking about names brought yet another matter up.

"We had a whole year to decide on a nickname for you, Scorpius," Persephone mused aloud, "and we didn't manage."

"Do I need one?" Scorpius asked, frowning.

"Scorpius sort of sounds as if you were one of those dangerous insects," she said.

"Yes, you are much too nice to be a scorpius," Joseph joined in.

"Scorpion," Persephone corrected; Joseph gave her a smile.

"Exactly," Scorpius said. "It's Scorpius, not scorpion. It's a constellation. So there is no need to think I'm poisonous or something."

"Anyway, what about _Scor_?" Persephone asked.

"Score?" Scorpius echoed. "Like in _orchestra score_?"

They laughed.

"Is there a nickname you would like, _Scor_?" Persephone asked between giggles.

"Not that I know of. By the way, what's your Dad's name? Robert?"

Startled, Albus looked up from the chessboard. An off-the-wall question like this was bound to ignite Persephone's interest. What did Scorpius think he would be telling her – putting Robert Ackerley under an Imperius Curse saved my Dad from going to Azkaban?

"My Dad's name is Stewart," Persephone answered, puzzled. "Uncle Robert is his younger brother. Why d'you ask that?"

"I... er... read about a Robert Ackerley somewhere," Scorpius said. He sounded by far less casual than he probably wished.

Promptly, the girl sat up straight, her eyes alight with curiosity. "Really? What did they say about him?"

"He, err..." Scorpius stammered, a pink tinge appearing on his cheeks, "he got detention. For wandering around after curf-"

"Honestly, could you drop that?" Albus cut across him. He glanced at Rose, silently begging for support. "We're on holidays. I object to the subject of detention."

"Check," Rose said.

Momentarily perplexed, Albus gaped at the board. Rose's pieces had cornered his king. The rest of his men looked about nervously.

Joseph and Persephone leaned in to inspect the situation.

"Let the king move backwards," Joseph suggested.

"No good," Persephone said quietly. "There's Rose's bishop waiting. How cunning..."

Scorpius, crouching on the floor next to the seat where the chessboard stood, said, "Let your castle move in between."

"I'll lose it," Albus protested.

"Maybe, but capturing your castle would leave Rose's queen exposed."

"What?" Rose gasped. "Oh... it seems I overlooked that knight altogether..."

That was the moment when Albus realised that she had messed up on purpose. Fortunately, he was spared having to fake glee because Tim Warbeck dropped in just then to wish them great holidays.

Tim was followed by Ireen and Pia. After them, a succession of other boys and girls popped in to say good-bye for the summer. Most of them stayed for a brief, friendly chat; Aidan and Cedric prattled on about the Magpies for nearly half an hour before they left. When they did, Nancy Donovan came in on her own. She seemed still to be a little under par. Above and beyond that, she looked apprehensive.

"I... I'd like to apologise," she said, glancing at Rose. With a timid look in Scorpius's direction, she added, "And to say thank you."

"You don't have to apologise. Nothing that happened was your fault," Rose said firmly. She collected her chessmen – disregarding their protest – from the board and gestured for Albus to do the same. "Please, Nancy, sit down."

More confused than delighted, Nancy drew a bit nearer. "Thank you," she said again.

"You're welcome. Just don't make a fuss about it," Albus said, and Scorpius nodded to every word, "because Mr Thomas had us promise to keep our mouths shut."

"He had me promise, too," Nancy said.

"Okay, then that is settled," Scorpius said. "Perhaps it's us who should apologise, anyway, because we actually believed you would do such things."

Nancy blushed. "Surely, _you_ don't have... You got into a lot of trouble because of me. You had to serve detention. You lost house points. I don't see why the teachers didn't give points back to Ravenclaw, too."

"Because," Albus said, and he was convinced in his heart of hearts that, next time, he would again value friendship more than house points, and that no amount of points could ever outweigh a girl's life, "the teachers figure that, unlike you, Scorpius and I _knew_ what we were doing."

"I do know what I was doing," Nancy said ever so softly. "I do know it _now_."

There was silence. Albus caught himself staring at the freckled Hufflepuff girl and looked away quickly.

"How does-" Scorpius broke off to clear his throat since the words came out as a mere croak. "How does the curse work?"

"You'll probably think that this sounds completely weird but it was the most heavenly feeling," Nancy said, sitting down hesitantly. " I just... it was like gliding, like drifting along without the slightest care. All thought was wiped away, and my mind was completely empty – empty except for a voice that told me what to do. It didn't matter to me what I was doing – not in the least – because I felt perfectly happy... And now, I feel totally wretched. I'm so ashamed. All these shocking things I did..."

"Don't blame yourself," Rose said, gently touching Nancy's hand. "Most adults aren't capable of fighting off an Imperius Curse. So why should a first year student be able to?"

Nancy tried to smile.

"I bet you hadn't even heard about Imperius Curses before," Joseph said. "Your parents aren't wizarding folks. Mine aren't eider, and I didn't know a d-thing about _Unforgivables_."

Nancy finally managed a small smile.

While the others had been talking, Persephone had fished a deck of self-shuffling cards out of her bag. Now she held it out to the Hufflepuff girl.

"You deal," she simply said.

Nancy, rather bewildered, took the deck. Joseph started explaining rules – which turned out to be not necessary. Nancy knew his favourite card game, if by an English name.

-

When Nancy left, the train had reached the outskirts of London.

Soon after – they were less than ten minutes away from King's Cross – Victoire appeared. She looked stunningly gorgeous, although she had her hair simply pulled back into a ponytail today. Its still mauve hue went nicely with the flowery design of the Muggle dress she was wearing.

"Rose, Al, we've to hurry up," she announced. "I've just got an owl. Grandma Weasley is throwing a party and expects everybody to attend."

"A _party_?" Rose asked. "Just like that?"

"It's supposed to be a surprise. But," Victoire smiled a conspirator's smile, "since Teddy also owled me I happen to know. Our dear Uncle Percy very quietly got a divorce in January. He married again in March and kept that a secret until two weeks ago when his new wife gave birth to a boy. Teddy doesn't know _how_ Grandma Weasley found out, but find out she did. And tonight, we're going to celebrate Xavier Peregrinus Weasley. That's it."

She dashed off to deliver the news to their other cousins.

Albus felt completely dumbstruck. Divorce, marriage, and childbirth within six months and – above all! – behind Grandma Weasley's back. Uncle Percy must have been using really advanced magic...

"Well, at least now I know why Marianne has been avoiding us for the past months," Rose said, getting up to gather her belongings.

She was almost knocked down by James and Jean-Paul, who burst into the compartment like a flying squad of Aurors raiding a den of dragon egg smugglers. Jean-Paul collected Rose's luggage; James tugged – swearing profusely – at Albus's trunk, which was stuck for some inexplicable reason. Persephone, protesting loudly, clutched the cage of her owl lest it got overturned, Joseph eagerly offered advice as to how getting the trunk out, and Albus tried to make apologies for his brother and cousin's behaviour. Nobody listened to anyone. Only when Rose grabbed James by his collar and yelled at him to stop, the hubbub died down.

"Just lay off, will you?" she said furiously. "We can't rush ahead anyway!"

James faltered. "Why not?"

"Because Sepho can't cross the enchanted barrier without help! It doesn't open when you approach tentatively – it doesn't matter whether that's because you are afraid or because you can't walk properly."

"Calm down, Rosie," Jean-Paul said. "Her parents will take care of her."

"They never get anywhere on time," Persephone chimed in. "Chances are ninety-nine to one that they will be late fetching me."

Jean-Paul looked at James for further directions but, for once, James seemed at a loss for a quick solution.

"Don't worry," Scorpius said into the relative silence. Only the owl kept on hooting. "I know a fail-proof method to get someone through the enchanted barrier who can't walk through on her own."

"You do?" James wondered. "How?"

"I thought you were in a hurry," Scorpius muttered, slipping past James to talk to Persephone directly. "It works," he assured her. "Trust me. I didn't just watch how it was done, I helped doing it."

"The trick is that the person faces backwards and doesn't see the wall coming," Rose fell in with him. "My Dad used to carry my brother through this way. All babies are probably carried like this. But, Sepho, you weigh more than a baby, and there are also three trolleys to push-"

"We can sort dat out, Rose. No problem," Joseph, who had finally wrenched the trunk free, said with absolute confidence. He gave her a brief hug. "Get going before your cousins suffer a nervous breakdown."

"There's a good man," Jean-Paul said appreciatively and slapped Joseph on the back. James was already shoving the trunks out into the corridor.

Albus shook hands with Joseph and promised for the seventy-fifth time to write, he gave Persephone a quick embrace, and then he held Scorpius's hand before they both, after a moment's hesitation, let go and hugged instead.

"Honestly now, Al," he heard his brother complaining from the door. "Be done snogging your buddy and come!"

"Ever the pain in the neck," Albus mouthed so only Scorpius could understand.

Scorpius smothered a grin. "Take care, Al," he said.

"You too," Albus said, retreating to the door. "See you in September."

Out in the corridor, Albus flashed a wide grin at his older brother. "You spit such baloney again," he said evenly, "and I'll be sure to stuff your precious Eaglewing 44 down your throat."

The ear-splitting screeching of iron wheels slithering along iron rails as the train came slowly to a halt swallowed James's retort.

"Exactly," Jean-Paul said when the noise had sufficiently subsided. "I think we all had better prolong our silence about little Malfoy. Rosie's Dad is bound to hit the roof once he learns how chummy she is with this boy. I, for my part, don't want that to happen tonight because Grandma Weasley's garden doesn't have a roof, and the trouble shooters might have to scrape the scattered bits of our poor Uncle Ron off the surface of the moon or something."

They were among the first to jump onto the platform. They grabbed trolleys, piled their luggage onto them, and swiftly made their way out into the Muggle station. Their parents were just entering it from the other side.

They hurried towards each other, and Albus flew into his Mum's arms before she had the chance to ask him what had happened to his hair. When she finally did – after bestowing the due amount of motherly caresses on him – Rose engaged her and her own mother instantaneously in a scientific conversation about Lingering Hexes. Uncle Ron rolled his eyes in the exaggerated way that was so typical for him.

Since his Dad was busy hugging James, Albus turned back to watch his friends emerge from the enchanted barrier. Persephone was perched on top of Scorpius's trolley, sitting back to front. Joseph had trouble steering because his trolley was laden with twice the normal amount of luggage. Two adults hastened towards him. The man, tall and broad-shouldered, had to be Joseph's father. He caught hold of the erratic trolley and brought it under control while Mrs Gerstlmeier proceeded to douse her unresisting son with a whole shower of kisses. Another woman, slightly plump and dressed in neat Muggle clothes, approached Scorpius. They hugged each other with visible joy.

"I see you weren't the only one who got a fashionable hair colour," Albus suddenly heard – his Dad was looking to where some excessive handshaking was now going on as Scorpius and Joseph did a round of introductions.

"Yeah," Albus laughed while his father pulled him into an embrace. "Violet is all the rage these days."

When his father let go of him, Albus caught a glimpse of Mrs Malfoy helping Persephone to climb down from one trolley and onto the other, which now held only the girl's luggage. The Gerstlmeiers were already exiting the station.

"Let's go!" Uncle Ron commanded. "Grandma Weasley is waiting."

-

It was a feast, and no mistake. The long table almost collapsed under the weight of the food Grandma Weasley had prepared – mutton and roast chicken, French beans with bacon, smoked salmon and baked trout, pastries and puddings, salads, apple pie, and cream puffs. The trees were adorned with garlands, and brightly coloured lanterns floated in the air. And everyone was there or, more precisely, everyone save Marianne and her mother.

For most of the time, Uncle Percy's new wife and baby were the centre of attention. Albus didn't mind. It meant fewer questions about his hair. He ate until he couldn't possibly swallow any more.

Later, he sat with Uncle Charlie, listening to fantastic stories about wild creatures. All around, the party went on in the ordinary manner of Weasley gatherings. Hugo and Lily were incessantly beleaguering Uncle George; James climbed into a tree and, in the process, accidentally – or perhaps not so accidentally – dropped one of the lanterns onto Uncle Percy's head. Charlie's youngest son broke Grandma Weasley's favourite bowl, and Teddy mended it with a nifty spell before she had the opportunity to notice anything. Uncle Ron and some others engaged in a game of Muggle football – or in something they believed to be Muggle football; there were too many balls involved. Albus's Mum and Dad, Aunt Hermione, Granddad Weasley, and Uncle Bill sat at one end of the table drinking Butterbeer and discussing politics. At the other end sat the girls, sipping pumpkin juice and giggling. Grandma Weasley chatted with Auntie Andromeda. Andromeda Tonks wasn't strictly family. She and her grandson Teddy had been sort of adopted because they'd lost their own family in the war.

The war.

All adults gathered here in his grandparents' garden had experienced _the war_. Albus knew this. He'd always known and yet, the true meaning that was encompassed by the two words still seemed to elude him. Monique Vallon's book had given him the first clue that war didn't entirely consist of heroic deeds. On the contrary, heroic deeds were rare exceptions and probably rather triggered by despair than by gallantry. War meant fear and pain and loss and guilt. War meant cruelty and death.

And afterwards, people had to live with their terrible memories, or their remorse, or both. Things weren't necessarily black and white – there were also the so-called shades of grey.

How would his family react if he invited Scorpius? Would they welcome him as warmly as they did with James's friends and those of his cousins? Or would they meet him with a cold, formal politeness? Or would they, even worse, downright forbid Scorpius Malfoy ever to cross their threshold?

Albus couldn't figure out an answer as he looked up and down the table. There was no simple yes or no, there were shades of maybe.

By coincidence, Albus's eyes met Uncle George's. The man threw him a big grin and called across the table, "How's things, Albus?"

Stirred so unexpectedly out of his musings, Albus struggled to find a reply.

"Don't worry. We'll get used to Ravenclaw," Uncle George went on, still grinning while Hugo tugged at the man's robes with all his might. "This brother of mine, the utter prat, just married a Ravenclaw. We'll get used to it. Could have been worse-"

Hugo had succeeded in hoisting himself onto the uncle's lap. In the uncompromising manner of little children, he demanded to be entertained. Uncle George complied, abandoning the conversation with Albus as abruptly as he had started it.

George was the only one of Albus's uncles who wasn't married and had no children. He made a living by selling self-made potions and a variety of curious toys he'd invented together with his twin brother a long time ago. Albus knew him for a cheerful person, although all the adults claimed Uncle George had never become his former self again after the death of his twin. _How can he when fifty percent of his self is gone?_ – This was a comment Neville had once made.

And here, Albus was right back to _the war_: The legendary Uncle Fred had died in the Battle of Hogwarts. The thought of people fighting in the Great Hall disturbed Albus. Grandma Weasley had killed Scorpius's evil great-aunt there.

He got up and walked over to his father. He sat down, leaning against the man's shoulder.

His Dad put an arm around him.

"Sleepy?" he asked.

"Hm-mm," Albus mumbled. He waited for the more difficult questions. When they didn't come, he snuggled still closer to his father, enjoying the warmth. He felt safe and comfy, and, gradually, the voices around him became a soft, distant hum.

-

Albus sat up in bed. For a moment, he gaped at the large poster of a Norwegian Ridgeback on the opposite wall. Then, realisation set in.

He was at home, in Godric's Hollow, and judging from the angle at which the sun shone into his room, he'd overslept by at least an hour.

He had a fuzzy recollection of saying goodnight to his grandparents, but he couldn't remember the car ride.

Oh, James was so going to tease him because of this...

He got up and went to the bathroom. Just when he reached for the handle, the door was opened from the other side. His father stood there, looking distinctly rumpled and wearing only pyjama trousers.

"Morning Albus. Fancy breakfast?"

"Morning Dad... Don't you have to go to work?"

"Despite your Mum's propaganda, I don't work _every_ Saturday," his Dad laughed. "Especially not when my sons have just returned from school."

Albus laughed, too. Of course, it was weekend.

"Get dressed and meet me in the kitchen," his Dad said and walked off.

-

Lovely smells of frying bacon and freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen. However, the table wasn't yet laid. Only a small, translucent flask sat in the middle. Albus recognised it at once.

His Dad looked up from making scrambled eggs, gestured with the fish slice towards the little bottle, and asked, "Do you know what this is?"

Albus moved a bit closer.

"It says 'Veritaserum' on the label," he answered carefully.

"And do you know whose handwriting it is?"

"Er... no."

"Your namesake, Professor Severus Snape's," his Dad said over his shoulder. "I understand you put the potion to good use."

So, it was time to face the music.

Albus took a deep breath and said, "We wanted to help, Dad. We thought Nancy Donovan would die if somebody didn't find out really soon what curse Yaxley had put on her. First, we read about the correct dosage, and about side effects... and stuff, and then, I asked James to be our back-up because he can cast Stunners and-"

He paused as, all of a sudden, running footsteps sounded from upstairs. There was an angry shout from James, followed by Lily's triumphant laughter.

"Dad, please, don't be mad," Albus hurriedly went on. It couldn't be long now before either of his siblings came rushing in here. "I _know_ we did something risky. But we had to do it anyway, and we were _not_ reckless about it."

His father took the frying pan off the cooker and turned round.

"In that case, son, I wonder what your definition of reckless is," he said.

A series of joyful shrieks from Lily drifted down from above while Albus was searching for a way to define the word. "Well, _reckless_ would have been... if we had given him half a gill of Truth Serum."

"I see," his father said quietly. The commotion upstairs seemed to be subsiding.

"Are you mad with me?"

His Dad went round the table and pulled Albus into a perfectly unexpected embrace. His voice sounded rather stern, though.

"I probably should be. I probably should lecture you that you mustn't put your best friends in danger. That you oughtn't to tackle seventh-year students, above all not exceptionally wicked ones who are capable of casting Unforgivables. I should tell you that you aren't to meddle with what is clearly the business of grown-ups, of teachers and Aurors. This would probably be my responsibility as I am your father and as I love you and want you to be safe and sound and unharmed. But, quite honestly, I would feel like a bloody hypocrite if I did."

-

Author's notes:

#1 Thanks to duj and her friend Withehound for helping me to find the correct word for a certain kitchen tool. The thing designed for lifting food and turning it over is called a _fish slice_ in British English.

#2 I'm planning on writing another sequel. It will be about the parents's reaction when they finally learn whoom their children have befriended.


End file.
